I feel wrecked.  Like my legs have been swept out from under me, dropping me to the ground in a crumpled heap and leaving me there like a rag doll.  Calling it a good day simply means I can pick myself up again.

Breathing comes hard sometimes.  A hitch that catches just a little too long…enough to remind me that my mom is actually gone now, a reminder that brings fresh tears and new pain.  Well, not new.  Just renewed.

I’m encouraged that I see interesting blogs to share – thoughts, stories, or perspectives that hold my often fragmented attention.  At least there’s a spark there, a small part of me that sits up and takes notice when I read something beautiful and unique.

But how long will I hang in this limbo?  It’s an odd space that squeezes my heart, making it ache, and stopping my words in their tracks.