at the moment, I’m despairing of ever having happier years than I have already had. and of ever being as loved as I was.
sorry … not to be super melodramatic or anything. I ought to go to sleep and stop thinking.
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No Promises This Time 
Thinking of you lots, lately. While I plant stuff on the farm, and pull weeds, and hear birdsong. Life’s a bitch. Time is so short when you’re happy, and so long when you’re sad. But you will be better next summer. It WILL happen. Love you, sister.
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I am certain of it, too, Erin. Things will be good again.
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I really, really like AL’s comment. 🙂
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