She sat perched on the edge of the bed desperately whispering into the phone i don’t think I can do it…of course you can came the calm, clear voice down the line. The bags were packed. There was too much stuff for the baby and not enough for her. Surely green cardigan’s go with everything? Who needed stuff when you were in the middle of an anxiety attack anyhow?
She’d spent the last 6 months thinking that she could do it, that some time away would be the best antidote to the Year of Change but now that the taxi was booked, the tickets were in hand and the idea of disapearing sounded absurd…couldnt she be like them? Couldn’t the biggest challange be whether or not she should allow a sneaky shake of chocolate on a babycino? But no, she kept falling into these opportunities where she was so impatient to be somebody that it just made her wish she was nobody.
She stood up, spat on her fingers and rubbed at those panda eyes for the third time…its like camping she thought to herself, the key to survival is about learning to make fire. The key to surviving was about learning to stand alone.
The horn beeped and she stepped out the door…