The tears threatened at random times during the morning. They came out a bit in the bathroom. They were on the verge when the family came to pick me up at the end of the day. They were unavoidable as soon as we left the building.
Day Two:
The tears held off during the day. They even stayed away when the kids gave me huge hugs in the evening. They made their reappearance once we were home and the full force of a day without my previous routine hit me. They were harsh.
Day Three:
Quiet tear ducts all day long, and even into the evening. As I'm getting ready to tuck myself in, I feel them nearby, close to the surface, wanting to be shed for everything that used to be. As much as I want to indulge in them, to let them wash over me while I wish for what cannot be, I'm trying my best to keep them at bay.
I feel a bit like a recovering addict... one day at a time seems a good mantra. It's more fitting than I ever would have imagined for a former stay-at-home mom.
Tearfully (though less and less) yours,
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