I despised my eighth grade teacher.
One life. That’s all we get. And that life is a series of choices which leads us down a certain path. There are times when I wish we could make more than one choice and have the chance to live parallel lives.
Before he hopped into bed last night, Steve asked, “Where’s Rolo?”
“I think he’s curled up on the La-Z-Boy recliner in the carport,” I replied.
There was a pause.
Nine months ago today I was as pregnant as they come, writhing in a pain in a hospital bed, in the 26th of what would be a 40 hour labour. It seems like a whole lifetime ago, and I suppose it was.
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