As paint dries

Maybe you’ll never get an apology. They may never acknowledge what you said. You could get it all wrong. Everything might blow up in your face. And you’ll still always have this. Seventy degree days at the end of November. A free afternoon. The small victory. A passing smile. Christmas lights around a yard flamingo.

You might step in it two days in a row. You may never find the motivation. You could get really close and have it yanked away. But you can also find a heads up penny in the parking lot. A meeting gets canceled. You find what you were looking for. 

Nothing comes to you the way you expected. It will look different, it will arrive different, it will all be wrong. And it will still feel exactly how you thought it would. Because that’s life. When walls are crumbling around you, light finds a way in. As everything falters, saplings that will become strong, sheltering trees poke through. It never looks like it’s supposed to, but it always feels exactly right.

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