they don't tell you how lonely it will be. how hard making new friends becomes with age and jobs and kids and exhaustion. how vital proximity and youth are to forming bonds that stretch beyond a pleasant hello in break rooms and hallways.
but it is. it is lonely. especially when you're doing this adulthood thing solo.
even the people you count as your closest friends become ghosts. a movement in your peripheral vision that disappears when you look, but you'd swear was just there. they all have their own white whales they're chasing. their own next step, next step, next step, bed.
each morning, i wake to two lovebirds nestling in my bed. warm bodies wrapping me up in a cocoon of "good morning mommy" and deep stretches. i'm bombarded by full-body hugs, drowned by piles of papers adorned with rainbows, ninjas, hearts, stars, horseshoes, clovers and balloons ...
and yet.
and yet.
at night.
i tuck them in. the little one and i fight about bedtime while the big one begs to sleep in my room. always later than intended, they're asleep and ...
it's just me.
i wish it was a small world.
sometimes, the nights are just too empty.
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