She see’s you working a job that aches your bones as you wonder whether your face might become so limp it may slip off your skull altogether. She knows you do this for one reason - and it’s a big one. Their tomorrow. You’re working for the tomorrow your kids will have, a tomorrow that is a gift of security and opportunity, and for you that is enough. The drudge of your day to day will be worth it. But when you rest your head to sleep she swoops down and whispers “You may have forgotten your own tomorrow, but I haven’t.” And the two of you spend the night talking and laughing and remembering the tomorrow you once dreamed of, and as the sun rises you know that you will turn your tomorrow into ...