hands in deep.

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I have my fingers dipping into so many little pots, stirring and tasting and trying, but not quite seeing the ends yet. It’s a phase of calm and consistent. Eating well even if my jeans stay tight, of running the miles even if they feel hard each time, of talking her off the ledge and using calm words and decibel even with my crazy rises and bubbles up into what could be explosive. . . .

Read more from hands in deep. at Playing House - Full Time

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