Another evening in the garden. It’s very windy tonight and Not Cat is chasing unseasonably brown and fallen leaves instead of insects.
I’m not crying.
I’ve cried a lot today. Every time I’ve thought of Mother. Every time I’ve thought of the impossible choices to be made. Every time I’ve thought of the colleague who said “Well, she’s old. Her life is over. It’s the young ones I care about,” yet who described herself today as empathetic, a person who knows when someone is low and gives them a hug. Continue reading