Let it rain.

Tonight I’m going to sleep, and I’m not going to worry that it’s storming, and the lightning and thunder are very close, or that my son is growing up and I can’t stop it, or that he still hurts from his parents’ divorce, or where we’ll be living in two years, or how much money I’ll be making, or whether I’ll ever accomplish the things that I feel I need to, or that my stepdaughter is almost in college and we won’t be seeing her as much, or what people think of me, or that Thomas is creeping into canine middle age, or that I am creeping into human middle age.

All of those things will happen, and they will work themselves out somehow, because life unfurls as it sees fit, and I will adapt. Tonight I’m going to sleep, because I have no idea what the details of all that will be, but some of them will be very interesting and they will reveal themselves when they’re ready. Tonight I’m going to live for tonight, and hug my son when he wakes tomorrow, and wrap myself around the sleeping body of the man whose love seems to radiate out of his skin and into mine, and I’ll pet the dog when it thunders and feed my stepdaughter chocolate, because she is still here for the moment, downstairs.

Worry is a time thief. I don’t want control over the future anymore, because I’ve never had it, and I’d rather let life surprise me.

 

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