Dang. I've handled enough emotionally charged stuff over the past 24 hours to last a week. Make that a month. I think I'll have a breakdown. *G*, just kidding. I wonder what it takes to make a person breakdown. More for some people then others, I guess. Maybe? Is it a choice, how much you can handle? It's not been anywhere near that bad. I just like junk in small doses.
Right at the peak Mom brings in a piece of paper. It reads;
When I grow up I want to work on
a ranch. Because I like horses.
I also like the other animals.
And it has a drawing. I suppose of a ranch. Which makes me think about me being little. And then me being big. And me working my current job. And me telling Mom, "You know what? I changed as I grew up." And her telling me, "You got that right." And about what I've become. Which is a long ways from whole. And what I might become. And how much everything moves on.
And then I return to more important issues at hand.
Ach. I like it. I know I do.