Another day in the books. How many more of these will I have? I had a dream 10ish years ago where a woman told me that in exactly 30 years, I would die. I think that would make me 52. I don’t put too much stock in that stuff, but part of me wonders if it’s true. And if so, what can I do in that time? That would give me around 19 years left. That’s enough time to see my kids grow up. That’s all I really want. I want to usher them into their adult lives and watch them evolve along the way. I want to live as long as I can, just so I can have more time to love them and be there for them. I am not afraid to die. Not really. I’m just afraid of missing them. And being unable to be a witness to all of the things life has in store for them.

I’m tired. My husband is working so I’m single momming it until Wednesday. We’ve had a nice weekend and things were mostly smooth. But I’m tired.

im so out of the habit of writing that all of this feels so stale. I never know what to say but I know I want to write. I haven’t had an online journal in a long time, but I enjoyed doing it because I knew other people would see it and I would be held accountable in a way. But I know I need to get back in it and just start doing it again, even if I don’t enjoy what im writing and feel that my mind is vacuous. It so often is. But occasionally I have little imaginings peppered in my thoughts throughout the day, like little brief sparkles of hope and light.

earlier I was thinking about the night we were all in my bed listening to music with the galaxy projector on, and I felt so cozy as I was taken back to that thought. We did a loóna drawing together and everything felt right. It felt safe. I felt like we were on my plane of existence for a while and not on one of theirs. Typically we are shrouded in the story of one of the boys, or my husband’s narrative about whatever the goings on in the world of politics or social issues may be, but for me, I like being met where I’m at, in a world that is a parody of wonder and fantasy, but still feels right to me.

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