Well, I haven't written in a while, and I don't really have an excuse; however, I don't really have much to write about either. I guess the one exciting thing that's happened is that Mom called and said she was in Etobicoke with the sisters for a girls' getaway. After some figuring, we decided to meet them for dinner Wednesday night.

Why? After all that's happened, especially what I learned last week, why would I bother? Because, as much as I hate myself for it, there's still a spark somewhere deep (REALLY deep) inside me that hopes she'll wake up one morning and be the mother I've always wanted. For whatever reason, I just can't give up on her and, again, I hate myself for it.
 
She was so happy to see us, and she and her friends loved my ring and the pictures we showed them. The Boy had a good point when he said, "She couldn't leave her friends behind to just have dinner with the two of us?" I felt it was a good idea for them to come though because, otherwise, it would have been the three of us sitting and staring at each other for two hours. It was nice to chitchat with her friends. They're pretty cool ladies.
 
When we were driving home afterward, The Boy asked what why I was so quiet, and I started to cry because I'd been thinking about how it didn't feel like I'd just eaten dinner with my mom. I still missed her. I missed how we once were, which wasn't perfect by any means, but it was normal for me. It just sank in, for the zillionth time, that we would probably never have that again: That I will probably never be able to forget everything and just be cool hanging out with her. There would always be unspoken words running through my head, screaming to come out. I had to bite my tongue over and over again, to just not let everything out. But I was a good girl.
 
And I made sure that The Boy and I had our own separate bill.