The snow falls on the metal roof, making little pitter patters.
It’s dark and cold, and I shouldn’t be smoking but I am.
I have the kids in bed, the dishes done, and I managed to pull off a passable supper.
But instead of celebrating with me, you went to sleep.
Some days I want to hug you, hold you tight, like I want to be hugged.
Some days I’m just so tired, I wish things were different.
Days have past us by, and it has almost been a year.
Is this our new normal?
Or is change too slow to see.