Isn’t it Ironic?

Isn’t it Ironic?


Isn’t it Ironic?

I, the worrier.

The girl who cried repeatedly in high school, worried that my (then) boyfriend would eventually move away, because we were going to get married of course, and I didn’t want to move away from my parents.

The girl who worried her brother would get sick.

Who worried about her parents dying.
(And not because they were ill, because thank God they weren’t.)

The girl who worried that her future, unborn, not yet conceived! children would grow up, find someone, then forget about her.

I worried, have worried, and I continue to worry about a lot of things.

But the one thing I’m not worried about. . .

The one thing I feel so sure of it brings me peace knowing I’ve made the right decision. . .
(And let me tell you, peace to a worrier is a big deal and hard to come by.)

That one thing. . .

Is what worries you.

And it tears us apart.

And now I have a new thing to be worried about.