School's in for the winter! So at last I have access to the computer and no pending jobs to prevent me writing. I've made the lunches, ironed the uniforms, checked books, bags, etc., and waved my daughters off to start their studious day. I am alone, processing the summer, and can't think where to begin. I look out to the garden and see trees that need cutting. So I distract myself and decide to garden, and then while I prune, I cry. My son and I planted these twigs years ago and now they are thick trunks. I mourn that he didn't have a chance to grow and I weep, weep by the weeping willow trees! Then I question, "What am I doing?" I believe it's important to allow tears to flow and release, but this is different, I'm just feeling sorry for myself. Why, when I have so much to be happy about? I abandon my secateurs, go inside, and stare at the keyboard again.
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