Every evening, after the smalls are tucked in tight, I draw the blinds closed.
I wander the house, picking up bits and pieces, returning them to where they belong.
As I go, I flick off all the lights, except a couple in the kitchen.
He boils the kettle, and makes the tea, and tonight I plate a sneaky treat - Wholefood Simply ginger cake with curls of butter.
The autumn air carries a slight chill now, and the sun sets earlier, casting it's amazing pinks over the ocean.
I sip, and think, and fold three loads of laundry, and write mental to-do's.
And hope that the coughing I hear coming from the girls' bedroom won't interrupt her sleep.
I am exhausted, and drained, and my tea isn't filling me where I need to be filled, but it's so easy to ignore the empty and get busy.
Rather than ignoring the busy and finding my knees.
Day 91 and I feel the hard trudge, up the mountain. The part I'd like to turn around, fall to my arse and slide right down again.
But, discipline sees me continuing to drag my feet.
To drag out the words, the ones that re-read like the dregs, right at the bottom.
And pray that there is something left for tomorrow.
I know I'm only questioning the 'why' because it's hard.
And I'll ignore the question, and ignore the busy, and find my knees, and trust for the words.