Coming Home After Some Years

Some days, 24 hours is too much to stay put in, so I take the day hour by hour, moment by moment. I break the task, the challenge, the fear into small, bite-size pieces. I can handle a piece of fear, depression, anger, pain, sadness, loneliness, illness.

Every time I see children holding hands with their parents, or just plainly sitting together with their parents, I look away. It's not that I hate seeing pretty lovely things like that. But because it reminds me of a question nobody can answer…"Where's mine?"