Crisis

It is astonishing how quickly milk can sour. All good things come to an end. Great things, too. This love story has gone on for seven years. One coin-toss that lands on the wrong end and I find myself outside the fence. I suppose the best thing about landing outside the fence is that, it is all out there. The rest of it, I mean.

I have counted my blessings, thanked my lucky stars and picked up the pieces. There are real blessings to count. One, more so than most. I have decided to trundle on.

The end draws nigh, as yet, unknown. I am aware now, a bit too late, of the absence of a Plan B. I hope I see one already taking shape. Interesting times ahead. Six months. Perhaps, a year. I will be 30.

Then, I wonder, what is it that I feel? Fear about uncertainty? Or, excitement about possibility? It feels good to be asking of myself, questions that were taboo until that coin was leaving the hand.

This might consume every bit of me. Will I arrive? It is time to charge the batteries.