I've been quiet. Grief, certainly, but also? There isn't all that much to say. Life moves on, whether you want it to or not, and so the day-to-day minutia fills up the hours and, before you know it, a day, two days, two weeks have passed.
Youngest is down with a fever today. That's it. Just a fever. No sore anything. Ears are fine. Stomach is fine. And he's bouncing off the walls walls with almost the usual virve. (Although he does wear down a bit faster.) Eldest is showing his huge heart and playing nurse-slash-entertainer with great zeal.
Beyond that? I can't write. I open my current book and stare at the blinking cursor for what feels like hours before closing it back up and calling it a day. I can barely read. I've been sticking to rereads, because I can't find a way to get into anything that isn't old and familiar.
But life moves on. At some point, I imagine I will as well.
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