On Tender Hearts
The cold stings my face awake, and the sun squints my eyes. It’s a day to be grateful. I drop my boys with a sitter, and I get in my van, sit in the beautiful quiet for a minute counting the points of ice crystals on glass. Then I pull up to the local superstore and unfold my list.
Find the fat pencils for homeschool, and on my way to supplies, my mind drifts …
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