June 15th, 2008

My husband is out of the country for two weeks – in our old home town of Washington, DC, ironically enough – and I’m flying solo.

My three-year old doesn’t nap; he’s an early riser; we’re talking fourteen hour days here, people, and a six-month old who still wakes anywhere from two to four times a night. Two nights ago he slept from 10pm until 6am for the first time ever, but needless to say lightning did not stike twice. It’s ten minutes to nine and I’m going to bed. This post right here, this constitutes my me-time for the day. Bed calls.

She felt a tug at her shoulder,
but it was just the wind
pulling at a thread on her sweater.
She walked on
oblivious to her unravelling.