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Sara
I don’t sleep all night again, and by morning, I’m so exhausted I all but crawl to the kitchen for coffee. If today was a workday, I would’ve had to call in sick. However, it’s that most rare of all days.
A Saturday when I have absolutely nothing scheduled.
If this was pre-PN (Peter’s note), I might’ve gone to the clinic to help out for a few hours, or surprised my parents by popping over for breakfast. However, this is post-PN, and between the lack of sleep and the ever-present anxious waiting, it’s all I can do to plop on the couch and turn on a cooking show.
I’ve been watching a lot of those lately. They remind me of Peter.
As always, when I think about him, my mind starts going in circles. It’s now been eight months since he brought me home—eight months during which my on
