Well, get us. We’ve made it thus far, just by getting on. Putting one foot in front of the other.
You knew we’d manage.
You knew the pain would dull around the edges, that the physical pain would fade from my chest.
You knew that there would still be days when I’d waken, lost and confused. Still be days when I’d cry.
But then, we’re criers- you’d expect nothing else. I never did learn to drip discreetly, in an unblotchy fashion. I sniffle and snort, and scare the dog.
You’re still pushing me on- upward and outward.
(2012 was a leap year)