It may be alright… perhaps, maybe, possibly it may be alright. That is to say, it might well be alright, probably will – but I’m so cautious and hesitant to get excited that I won’t, not for now.
But there is a part of me that is already jumping around whooping and clapping. And another equally valid part of me that wants to cry and cry and cry and not change anything and let someone else work things out so she doesn’t even have to think, let alone get out of bed and face the day. The part of me that is still tucked up in her little bed in her little room at her beloved granddads house, lightly touching the pink velour curtain, feeling the texture of the fabric as she watches the light die outside and wonders with complete confidence and hope what tomorrow will bring. Knowing that it must be alright because it always is: someone else takes care of it.
I hope I find some balance between them. I hope I can be grown up, now that it matters so much. It’s never mattered more than now.
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