Isn't it funny how little points of references cross, memories and moments come back in a blurred muddle.
Yesterday, I wrote about my miscarriage and one of the strange little parts of the story I omitted was that at the hospital I shared the lift with a red-haired, suited woman. On that trip in the lift, I elbowed Skip and darted my eyes towards the woman who was chatting away with another man. It was a strange little high in a horrible moment.
It seems that this morning, that woman I shared the lift with will become Australia's first woman Prime Minister.