Sometimes everything is disjointed, awkward and fumbling and so void of all sense, it is the definition of ridiculous.
Sometimes everything feels heavy. So heavy. Too heavy. How will you carry it?
How will you manage?
Sometimes everything is painful, and scary, because you don't know whether it's an end or a beginning, and if you should be happy or sad, or maybe even both, so you end up just feeling everything, and being scared of all of it.
And sleeping a lot.
Sometimes, though, there is also cheesecake, and cold weather, and scarves and lit up Christmas trees, and little boys who say "Mommy can I lay down with you?", and leftover mashed potatoes, and a 9 year old girl who really wants to read to you.
Sometimes I don't know what I'm doing, or where I'm going, or how I'm supposed to feel about it all.
And then someone offers you cheesecake, and you think everything might turn out OK anyway.