Image for post
Image for post

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.

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