Ticking . . . .
You never know, when you're dealing with loss, what will set you off. Stupid little things, like bad cell phone reception, a missed bus. All minor disappointments remind you of the major one, somehow.
And the enormity of the thing keeps coming at you piecemeal. Each time you realize some new dimension of what you've lost, it knocks the breath or the tears (or both) out of you.
Today, for me, it was a gorgeous little girl with curly hair, big brown eyes that reminded me a little too much of Stan's, and a sweet smile. I suppose this means I have a biological clock, after all.
Lord knows I'm not ready for a child; Lord knows I wouldn't bring a child into this chaotic life of mine. I guess I just feel as though possibilities are slipping through my fingers.
And the enormity of the thing keeps coming at you piecemeal. Each time you realize some new dimension of what you've lost, it knocks the breath or the tears (or both) out of you.
Today, for me, it was a gorgeous little girl with curly hair, big brown eyes that reminded me a little too much of Stan's, and a sweet smile. I suppose this means I have a biological clock, after all.
Lord knows I'm not ready for a child; Lord knows I wouldn't bring a child into this chaotic life of mine. I guess I just feel as though possibilities are slipping through my fingers.
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