Exponentials...

It is hard not to feel invaded. To find privacy stripped away and respectful distance a mirage of the past. Two girls raised under entirely different auspices shoved into our laps. Not unwelcome, but difficult. And a mother who needed harboring but remembers too well her dream of always being the harbourer. Never ceasing crises nip at each other's tails with Tom and I caught in the vortex. Domestic trifles are the summation of days and hours of conversation. And my thoughts are turned to concrete matters of moving boxes and diet regimens (ignored by children raised on hot dogs and macaroni and cheese). We are all scattered haphazardly on different paths struggling to stumble along together.