I’m not sure where to start on this one. This thought. This voiced path. Sometime in the past five years or so, things needed to give, but weren’t. I was white-knuckling it in a career I had loved for a decade that no longer loved me back. He was in school full time, the babies were in daycare full time, and we were too loaded up on calendar beeps to realize how lost we were. We took hold of the rigging and sailed through storm after storm, looking for shore or calm seas. Holding hope for one another when we each took turns forgetting how to believe in something better.
Staying home.
Staying home.
Staying home.
I’m not sure where to start on this one. This thought. This voiced path. Sometime in the past five years or so, things needed to give, but weren’t. I was white-knuckling it in a career I had loved for a decade that no longer loved me back. He was in school full time, the babies were in daycare full time, and we were too loaded up on calendar beeps to realize how lost we were. We took hold of the rigging and sailed through storm after storm, looking for shore or calm seas. Holding hope for one another when we each took turns forgetting how to believe in something better.