My hand on his forehead, the rub of a small back.
Our cuddles, their laughter, my shortcomings.
All of the white noise.
She asked me how I was, ‘What’s new with you?’
‘Nothing, really – just plodding on – I’m boring! Tell me about you’.
There’s this nagging inadequacy, this desire to make light of the biggest part of me. The fear I have nothing interesting to contribute.