This photo is on my kitchen wall. I see it every day. Sometimes I move past it. Sometimes I stop, take it down. I stare into all three pairs of those familiar eyes and I wish there was some way I could speak to them. I remember those days as full and happy, although I'm told they were not. I think there is some revisionist history going on there, but that point aside I would like to talk to that young mom.
You break my heart, Lynn. "she was sure that she was doing a good job. It was the most important job ever, and she poured herself into it". Yes. And now nothing makes sense any more.
I understand Lynn. Even tho mine was not like yours I was told how I did it wrong. I loved the other one more than that one. No one can read a book that has never been written and be perpered for what you cannot see coming.
I'm so sorry Lynn. You're an excellent writer and it's so important that you share your story. 🙏
You break my heart, Lynn. "she was sure that she was doing a good job. It was the most important job ever, and she poured herself into it". Yes. And now nothing makes sense any more.
(((Hugs))) We pour our heart and soul into the most important job and it goes haywire... thanks for sharing.
I understand Lynn. Even tho mine was not like yours I was told how I did it wrong. I loved the other one more than that one. No one can read a book that has never been written and be perpered for what you cannot see coming.
you did this to yourself.