I’m experiencing an unsettling sort of calm.
Could it be the calm before the storm? I mean, this time last year I was a frenzy of anxious activity. Lists of things to purchase were scrawled on a rainbow hue of sticky notes that covered every surface of my kitchen. A teetering pile of plastic IKEA bags stood in my living room like a bright blue sentry to my impending heartbreak. And every time I looked at my son I was making a concerted effort to put to memory the angle of his jawline, the flecks of brown in his hazel eyes.
