Today

I was feeling a little bit sorry for myself today and it was totally food related.

I even dreamt of artichokes last night and woke up with a happy feeling.

But today I made a quick run to Dominick*s to pick up some, um, Whipped Cream. For my dinner. *Sheepish smile here*

And I picked up some mac 'n cheese for Morgan for dinner. And canned beans. Dinner of Champions.

As I drove home from the store, I saw the Pl*anned Parentho*od clinic right next door. People were protesting. A young woman walked in the building not giving eye contact to the group.

Without warning, I starting sobbing. It wasn't pretty. I wept the quick, guttural, heaving sort of sobs that seem to come up from nowhere but, in actuality, are born from the deepest loves and fears I hold deep inside.

I rubbed my belly.

Morgan misunderstood; she asked why I was laughing.

"Mommy wasn't laughing."

She asked why I was crying. I was driving and couldn't think of what to say.

"I just can't tell you, Morgan."