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Some days I feel like writing in my journal. Some days I prefer to read what others have written and respond to theirs. Then I can work up enough courage to write for myself again. I think some days I just prefer not to think about what is happening at work. It's not that it's so bad; I just find it exhausting and I need a break.
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W's birthday is today. He is 15. I love that he and his friend are starting their own official club at school--they found a faculty sponsor, and they are getting all the paperwork signed off by the proper authorities. I love it when he wants to do something enough to make an effort. He asked my husband for a lap-top to start writing on his novel again. I hope it works out. However, I do wish he would make some effort not to cringe when I touch him or talk to him. I miss my hugs.

A still hugs me, but he is getting touchier about his privacy,too. I just hope he always lets me hug him, even through the teen stage.