Fivel
2004-09-23 @ 4:45 p.m.

The letter from N explains something I can't elaborate on. I may never here, I may never to anyone other than him, and I rarely even talk to him about it. In fact, I haven't since the day it happened, and that was almost 3 years ago. It's my way of dealing with it. Sometimes, that's just how life goes. Then again, maybe some day, I'll trust someone to love me enough, to tell them. Telling them would be unleashing the worst kind of pain, and anger.
I'm tired today, warm, content, but tired. It's the kind of tired that can only be remedied by crawling under a down comforter, with either a good man, or a good book, maybe even a good movie. Fall always invokes these things in me.
I have to go now, I've got children to pick up, and birthday dinners to attend. An old friend from work just started two of her three kids at Emma's school, and she works out of town as does her husband. Her usual sitter is out of town today and tomorrow, so she asked if I could pick the two kids up today. That means almost 2 hours with someone elses screaming kids, after a long day of screaming adults. Then, dinner with a screaming ex-husband, all because I'm entirely too nice, and way too patient.
Sweet dreams my darlings. I'll be wishing on a star for you.....