Feels like Saturday. Thank goodness.

Another dress, another sweater. Orange juice in the chair looking out toward the trees.

Laundry. Need to get caught up.

I walk into her bedroom and see all of the things everywhere. I close the door.

Error messages.

This chicken keeps coming closer and closer.

I can’t seem to find my words. Maybe today should have been a day for regular coffee.

I give them the short version of a very long story.

She pulls out the things in her bag and names them one by one. I miss this age.

So tired I can’t even keep track of the game.