This morning, I woke up with the same immoral thoughts that I had gone to bed with last night.
As a mother, offering condolences to any grieving parent always involves selfishly thanking God and God forbidding, in silence. For the next while, I will not look at anything with the same eyes. However, I know, as life will never be the same for my old dear acquaintance, it will pull me back into its clutches and demand I attend, once again, to my insignificant needs and frivolous wants.
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Magic show, face painting, dozens of balloons, presents and a big ice cream cake with the image of Rapunzel — my older granddaughter turned four today, and her favourite colour is purple. I am the luckiest woman alive.
23 days left of my holidays
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