For once I don't have a story about dog poo.

Tonight I looked up at the clear sky and was surprised to see a bright, full moon. That means it's been four weeks since Mr. Wonderful and I were on a walk and stopped in our tracks, faced with a huge harvest moon.

I knew he was going to end our relationship and felt helpless to stop him. As we watched the moon rise, he put his hand on my shoulder and I thought, "Don't. Don't touch me. Don't make it harder."

And now I am so very, very tired, like all of the worry and fret and sadness and want of the last several months is finally catching up with me. But I'm finding joy.

A dear friend gave me a book by Brian Andreas, a wonderful artist and poet. These lines resonated with me:

There are days
I drop words
of comfort on
myself like
falling
leaves
& remember
that it is
enough to be
taken care of
by my self.

So I'm going to go to bed and will be funny again tomorrow.