Office politics. Commute traffic. The sun shining through the windshield, just below the visor, so I can’t stop the glare. It gives me a headache. I need to get home. I just want to be home.
Teenage genius trying to live through puberty, not coping well with hormones or feelings, acting out, self-medicating, saying just leave me alone.
Pre-kindergarten sprite with glow-in-the-dark hair who loves frozen peas and just wants to dance.
Perpetually sticky floors from spilled juice. Handprints on cupboards. Never ending laundry. Dirty dishes everywhere.
Harried husband who doesn’t deal well with corporate life. He thinks he knows what’s right and wants to do that, unencumbered by rules.
Travel, packing, itineraries, passports, business meeting preparation, leaving family, guilt.
Family courts, detention centers, mental health facilities, rehab. Eventual reconciliation.
Juggling schedules, parental participation, dancer drama, injuries.
High school, college, graduations, weddings, grandchildren. How fast time flies.
Retirement, volunteering, slowing down, money worries, health worries.
Finally taking time to see the beauty surrounding us. And the love.