It was a quiet day. Tim slept for a great deal of it, and I think that he's the better for it. The bad news is that it is bedtime, and he's ~ again! ~ coughing like crazy.
I hate this.
He says it's not as bad as it was. He would say that though. It is how he is. I can't really say anything because I'm kind of the same way myself. We'll see what happens tonight and argue it through tomorrow. Deja vu all over again. (and yes. I know. It's a joke.)
By the time that you read this, it will be my youngest daughter's birthday.
We raise them to be happy in their own chosen paths. I'm glad for her happy life in a country she loves, with a job she enjoys, a loving (and beloved) husband, a pretty home, and her cat.
But...still, in quiet moments, I sit and I remember. I miss her.
The cat is out of the basement. He's in his bed. He's thinking too. He didn't miss us in the least, although he purrs when I talk to him.