Meaning of Life

Stuff of dreams.

Bbq, or Braai as we say in South Africa.

The sun shines, and that's all right by me.

And then the ice cream truck drove past with its

 'Mr Sandman' happy tunes.

Son#3 told us that's it is the best day of his entire life.

Tomorrow, the husband is going camping with Son#1 for 1 night.

Sons #2 and #3 and I are going for a neighbourhood picnic.

I've been working myself up.

Son#1 had yet another altercation with the Break Gestapo at school, a woman named Judith with too short hair and no chin, plus bags full of sarcastic vitriol she seems to save for my kid.

Way back when, Son#1 ran away from school because of this awful person.

My cup runneth over [with impatience].

An oeuf is an oeuf.

For tonight, we have wine, lovely boys (Son#3 on repeat, singing. the. same. damn. song. over. and. over)

and each other.

My mum is coming in 6 weeks' time.

Next week, I'm seeing the company doctor.

The boys are in the last throes of the school year.

I have much pain and discomfort.

Everything ends, eventually.

My mother and I had a conversation about the lack of meaning in life.

But perhaps there IS no point.

We exist for a while.

We disappear again.

And that might just be enough.

.