The magic of time

Do you remember when we used to frolic through the dry and barren fields of our small town, with nothing on but our smiles and our youth? Our lives are so disparate now, sister. You, a mother, a wife, an entire life. And I, a mere soul, lost, wandering, wondering when mine will begin.

Morning Routine

Our mornings begin as they always do; half asleep, I crawl out of bed to begin our day. I meet you at the bottom of the staircase. You’re either in your chair, sleeping the morning away or you’re somewhere else. When it’s the latter, I search frantically around our home, desperate to find you. When …