I can say now that it wasn’t easy and I can also say that it’s over. Not completely, cause nothing ever is, but over enough. Enough to be able to write about it, enough to be able to expect new fears.
I can say it wasn’t easy because I spent a long time waiting for exactly this: the feeling that things will be alright, that being hopeful isn’t silly. I can say that it’s over because I now look at a flower and think ‘finally’ instead of wondering how long we’ve got until days start to get shorter. I woke up at 5 AM this morning because I was ill and I spent the next two hours fearing terrible things — it’s not completely over — but I’ve not thought about that in broad daylight — it’s over enough.
I guess I could say I’ve been in my own personal winter. It lasted longer that the normal ones. It held its gr…