Last Thursday, I got an email from my company’s CEO.
“Congratulations,” it read, “on the most important decision of your life thus far. You’ve been with us for an entire year!”
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Sweat rolls down my forehead, leaks into my eyes. I can see drops all across my arms and my yoga mat.
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“I guess it always starts with butterflies,” my friend tells me when I ask how she knows she’s falling in love. “It’s exciting to fall in love.”
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When she tells me she’s proud of me, I want to pull a blanket over myself and stay there, away from her attention, away from the pride I can feel rising up in myself that tells me, Mission accomplished.
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“Your amazing,” he writes just as my treadmill starts to speed up.
And yes, he spelled it wrong, and the editor in me tries to withhold her judgment and not let an apostrophe, re, keep the butterflies at bay. But the butterflies aren’t coming anyway. They rarely come with him.
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Seven days ago I got a phone call that sparked a change in my life. That was nine months since graduation. Nine months since the clock struck midnight and life gave me another year to look ahead to. Nine months since all I could see in front of me was a massive pit of fog and millions of question marks.
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