Some days I find it difficult to muster up enough enthusiasm to make a cup of tea.
Some days I feel as if I can cope with anything and I'd like to make you all a cup of tea (decaf, green, herbal, whatever you want! Cake?).
Some days I can almost taste my impatience to be fixed.
Some days I'm almost glad that we aren't trying yet.
Some days I just miss my son and stare at his picture and the more I look the more George looks like his father and the more I see our love in his beautiful face.
Some days I wonder how I ever went through what I went through. Was that really me?
How any of us remain standing after experiencing the worst thing in the world amazes me.
Wobbling in the breeze maybe, but still standing.