Our bond is strong and even sweet. He still hugs me. But only in private. I love when he wraps his long arms around me, even if it’s for a millisecond. I get more high fives and fist pumps than hugs but that’s okay. I’ll take what I can get.
I realized quickly that no it wasn't Erin because Erin would have laughed. This woman? Well, you should have seen the look on her face. (Yes, we made eye contact.) Her look was not one of happiness. No, I think it was one of fear. Fear of a sweaty, psychotic middle-aged woman.
It’s still dark outside.
I walk in right on time.
Well, maybe a minute early.
So that I have time to watch her sleep.
She looks just like the toddler she used to be.
Except now her bed is bigger and so is she.
Today is the day after I returned home from my trip to Las Vegas.
It was one of the best Las Vegas trips I've ever been on. The weather was gorgeous. Warm during the day. Cool at night. My husband and I were alone except for the one evening we got to spend with a college...
Today is my son’s birthday.
His 17th one.
And for the first time ever, I’m not with him. I can't hug him more than he wants me to. I can't tell him, again, the story of his birth. And I can't bake him a birthday cake from scratch. (Oh, right, I wouldn't do that anyway.)
Yesterday morning, I ran 2.5 miles. Then, in the afternoon, I went to Pilates. This morning, I woke up and went to a kick-ass spin class.
After class, as I was getting in the shower, I couldn’t help but think, “Who the f@$k am I?”
I’ve had that thought a lot in the last couple of weeks.