"I'm sorry," my husband says often.
Not because he's done anything wrong, or to offend or hurt me. But just because he can tell I am unsettled, discontent, disappointed at that moment in life in general.
He thinks he has failed because I am not happy all the time, that he needs to wrap me in all the comforts of this life.
A 5-Minute Friday post
I scooped up the spilled dirt and patted it back around the bruised plants that had fallen victim to a furry vandal's frenzied search for treasure.
"Obnoxious little varmints. This is why we can't have nice things. All this mess and destruction for a few errant bird seeds that you just can't live without," I muttered under my breath to the absent bandits, those masked critters with ringed tails that come out at night and wreak havoc in our neighborhood.
Laura England Miller