Sandy had to stop for second. She was standing in the living room looking out the window to a normally picturesque sight. She wasn't seeing that though. In those rare moments where everything was done, she wasn't the mother, wife or other half dozen or so labels she identified herself with. She was someone else.

She wondered, as she often did. was this enough? There were thousands of different things going on just outside her house, just out of view. Her imagination took over for second, as it always did, and she could imagine all sorts of things there. Robberies, thefts, national security issues. All of them coming back to her in some way.

But, here she was in a quiet life that no one would really understand.

She liked it though. The neatness of it all was important to her. She had a daughter and they couldn't be put off like some other things. Kids had to be taken care of now. No waiting with them. She loved her husband. She has friends.

Her own mother still bought her underwear. Sandy didn't understand the big deal with it all. Her mom knew she liked the silky, low cut underwear. Who would make a big deal of her mom buying it? Weirdos that's all. Small peeps who never had anyone do anything for them. So what, she bought underwear - what does that matter? Now, if she insisted on making her try them on and model them for her - that would be a problem.

Sandy was perfectly attuned to what was going on around her....