What Saturday mornings should be: bread making love making house cleaning bacon and egg eating tons of coffee drinking laughing talking sharing planning driving beaching shopping clothes hanging “forever” thinking.
What they are: painful tearful full of loss sadness “never” thinking isolating heart pounding procrastinating one-step-in-front of the other taking kitty litter cleaning music listening play acting missing solidifying hoping dreaming napping hooking tiring worrying stratagizing texting analyzing exhausting timing purpose defeating blogging neighboring mothering.
“Finding the balance” isn’t a useful phrase to me. I look at what used to be and currently is and quite frankly it looks like more of a juggling knife throwing fire eating flying trapeze act.
Grieving is hard work that needs to be done. Even on a Saturday morning. Especially on a Saturday morning.
Hope is the Thing- the Elvis Letters 
💔 Messy as shit.
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