I am one of those lucky marvels whose husband has banned them from the kitchen, the last and now permanent ban was during an Everton Three (door slamming on hand) when he’d lamented, in a crazed manner to no one in particular after my failed tomato...
If love were enough, I’d tell St Peter to close his gates; I’d block out the stars, and cover the moon with a fist. I’d find a place where time stands still, where no world would exist, except one where we could stand together arm in arm. Excep...
All we can do now is hope.’ I nodded, fighting back the tears. Tired of that word that asked so much, and gave so little in return.
Death is not something you get over. It’s the rip that exposes life in a before and after chasm, and all you can do is try to exist as best you can in the after.
