I think back to the days when my children were new. Those sleepless nights felt endless. I felt I’d never get through. The insomnia, the anxiety about what I’d gotten myself into? It was temporary.

Now that my kids are grown, I wonder where all the time has gone. I sit here on my bed reflecting, alone. Past pain and the stresses, the good times we try not to forget. The memories, both good and bad. This and all of the rest. It was temporary.

Forty four years have passed in a flash. I’m not sure how many years I’ll have left. To be quite honest, with my genetics, it’s anyone’s guess. All I do know is, it’s temporary.

So what can I do with the rest of my time? I tried to seek guidance from the divine, which felt like a waste of time. Grasping at air is how it feels, but I know this sensation is temporary.

I don’t have any real answers and I have no advice to give, except; love all that you can, take everything in, hug everyone more than twice and don’t be afraid of new beginnings. Because everything in this life is temporary.

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