Things are better.
I don't cry as much as I used to.
Our house sits behind a school for special needs children. When it is warm out (like today) I work from the dining room table with the screen door open. Without fail every day around noon the kids come out to play. I can see them and hear them from the table.
Today I could hear them on the swings and they were singing popular songs. These were older kids... probably in fourth or fifth grade.
I began to cry.
My tears were brought on by not knowing if I will ever take another child of my own to a playground to push on the swings.
That is my reality.