My hat is off to you. I wish we could sit down together and chat and remind each other that it’s going to be okay. That we’ll be okay and that God is bringing us through.
Some days when I’m bone weary, I think about you — laboring well after everyone’s in bed. Making hundreds of decisions, big and small. Anesthetizing the evenings with a mindless screen.
That heaviness in your shoulders you’ve grown used to? Maybe no one else sees but I know about it.
You’ve gotten used to knots in your neck and thoughts that can’t be switched off, swirling between the must-do’s of today and the what if’s of tomorrow.