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Has there ever been anything you wished that you could redo?
Is there anything that you wish that you could take back?
If given the chance, would you? Would you go back and change whatever it is? Or are the effects of the events so intermingled into making you who are, so intertwined into your life that you could never bring yourself to do so?
Has your trauma molded you so much that you couldn't rip it away and still see yourself having the growth that you do today?
Most couldn't.
Such a bittersweet thought.
Such a serious of unfortunate events often lead to tremendous amounts of growth. Such events create such beautiful people once they've healed. They become roses bloomed from the cracks of concrete that were meant to seal them in.
They become emotionally intelligent, mentally resilient. Almost entirely invulnerable.
But sometimes, that invulnerability comes with a price. The emotional intelligence comes with a catch. And the mental resilience can only withstand so much.
How long should one have to wait until they bloom? How often do they have to cry? When is their breakthrough coming? Is it coming at all?
Why am I meant to go through this? What have I ever done to deserve this? Why me?
Harper sits in her car with glossy eyes as her vision blurs. Her head is in her hands as her shoulder silently wrack with sobs.
She didn't mean to ruin the day. She didn't mean to cry but how could she not? How could she stay completely composed today when she's all alone? Why would that be asked of her?
Something as little as a 'Happy Thanksgiving' was enough to break her.
Where's her resilience? Why did that small phrase made by the cashier have such a grounding impact on her? Is it because she forgot?
No, Harper could never forget a holiday. She'd been planning for it all month. It's all that she's thought about all month. She knew that it was Thanksgiving. So why did the cashier giving a polite send-off throw her off the rails?
Why did it throw a wrench into her day? She was fine before this. Melancholic but fine. She hadn't cried, her thoughts hadn't veered left.
"God, this shit is so stupid." She cries. She wipes her eyes and sniffles before turning to look into the back seat. She checks on her son, whose fast asleep and oblivious to his mother's tears.
Harper feels his cheeks and neck to make sure that he isn't too warm. She takes his little hat off and sets it in her lap before putting her car in reverse. She backs out of the parking space and pulls out of the lot to drive home.
