I’ve been dreading today. I tried to avoid it at all costs, but it came anyway. I suppose that’s the trouble with time. We are helpless to stop it.
Last night in my travels I bumped into Insomnia. The two of us sat down and had a drink together and discussed my options. She agreed that it was inevitable. There was no way to avoid what lay ahead, so best if I meet the villain head on, rather than dodge my fear.
Facing reality, I went to bed and prepared for what awaited the next day. I awoke to confusion as my alarm clock roused me from my slightly hungover slumber.
Getting out of bed was odd. I didn’t feel any different. I wondered if I ventured into the bathroom and looked in the mirror if I would look any different.
Taking a breath I faced the reflective glass and winced slightly. I looked tired, and I probably should have washed the mascara off before I went to bed, because I had the look of a strung out drag queen, but even this was not that much different from my usual morning reflection.
Maybe it didn’t happen. Maybe I had stopped time. Maybe I could remain as I was, yesterday, forever.
I had hope. A glimmer of beautiful hope.
And then my husband walked in, big smile on his face, planted a rough kiss on my cheek and voiced the horrible words of, “Happy birthday, babe.”