A conversation on the stairs

"Mom, are you sad?" Patch asked as he hugged me around my neck. He'd found me sitting on the stairs with my head on my knees.

"I'm just tired." I replied, but then honesty drove me to expand. "And maybe a little bit sad."

"What are you sad about?"

I looked at his seven-year-old face and his big blue eyes. He did not need a list of all the things I still have to do, for which I have a short supply of energy. Nor did he need a list of all the things which I have completed which drained my...