I forgot to feed the dogs. Actually, I forgot I didn’t have food for them. My kids are now old enough where I can make a food run if one of the older kids is home and at least one of the younger ones is asleep and/or they aren’t fighting. As I sat in my car at the grocery store parking lot I spotted a recently reacquainted friend of mine. Her husband died a few years ago. She has a son. She struggles with severe depression and like me, she weaned herself off anti-depressants and is trying to manage it all without medication. She looked so alone. She left before I could say hello. Truth is, I didn’t think I felt up to talking; hell, maybe she didn’t either. It was strangely comforting to see her from a distance, though. Once in the store I did talk to a new acquaintance who has recently separated from her unfaithful husband. She has three children. We shared that we weren’t quite getting everything done and felt overwhelmed. More importantly, we both admitted that we are so afraid our children, especially our girls, will make the same mistakes we did — that they won’t know how they should be treated — after all, we didn’t. There it was, our worst fear laid out right by the frozen foods. I think we both teared up a bit (not uncommon for me). It’s good when women can support each other, whenever, however. Still, I can’t remember her name — just one of the many things that slip my mind. I did remember to buy the dog food, though.
Just Me With . . . dog food.