I’m sad today. Not sure I can even tell you why because I can’t boil it down to one thing.

Last week my college roommate M had a complete hysterectomy. Unlike most modern hysterectomies these days via laparoscopy she had to have a full incision. She is home now on at month long leave from work. She is in a lot off physical pain, but I think maybe the emotional pain is worse.  Unlike me, M tried for years to get pregnant with no success. I mourned what never was, M mourns a monthly failure and now the permanent failure her own body.

My dear friends C & J are mourning the death of their dream family even as they move forward with the adoption of a second daughter. 

My 41 year old BBF had hope and faith, she continues to dream and plan her wedding just like when we were 16. For a few minutes I dreamed with her again. But unlike when we were 16 my Father can no longer walk me down the aisle.

A work friend shared her wonderful beach vacation story with me this morning. 

I’m getting ready to send K, Baby B & my mom away on a 10 day Fall Foliage trip to New England.

I’m in limbo on the purchase of the new house.

Piano Man came up on my play list.

I am some bizarre blend of a idealistic 14 year old waiting for real life to start and a terminally ill woman knows there is no time left to do the undone things.

Deciding to attempt bravery at 40 doesn’t give you back 25 lost years.

I see the memes about brokenness being made whole by the love if the right person.  But I know some people are too broken and love isn’t always enough. Perhaps it’s not that I’m too broken, but perhaps I don’t know how to love that deeply or I’m never the right person.

Perhaps I’ve lived behind the masks for so long hiding the authentic me, that only the masks remain.

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