My youngest son hurled all over the place. Right before bed. My stomach doesn’t feel good. I try to be a loving person. Sometimes I feel like I being smothered. I want to run. I want to be selfish. I don’t want to clean up smelly barf. I know love isn’t all magic and roses. That its the steady hand to the plow. The day after day small tasks. Though when you are cleaning up throw up you wish for some of that magic. Draw a heart. Think about love as you drift off to sleep.