I love you, Mom. Happy birthday.
I guess the story arc I'm writing is just...life.
This is a systemic failure, and being angry with one another won't fix it.
Probably not the uplifting holiday content you were looking for.
Somewhere ahead of me is "new normal," but I can't see it yet, so I don't know what it looks like.
It wears you down, doesn't it? Little things you didn't even know you valued.
I've learned that dreams can cripple you. But maybe only if you let them.
You'd think after all the times I'd been burned I'd have learned, but I haven't.