Almost all of the time now,
in this 1 year and 11th month of widowhood
and being my kids' ONLY parent,
I am perfectly fine.
Remembering but not always reliving.
Honoring my past but not hovering in it.
And in the last month, I've reached a new level of fine.
One I like.
One I vaguely recognize from a long time ago.
And it's been nice,
very nice.
But there are still some times I wish I could go back to the way it was
when my largest concern of the day might be
getting the church bulletin done.
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