Now Is Not the Time to Panic

by Kevin Wilson

I knew that he was jumpy, had some anxiety. I had it, too, but I think I’d had a head start on unhappiness, on being disappointed by people who supposedly loved you, and so I had settled into it a little more. I did not feel guilt for the weird things inside of me anymore.

I felt myself expand into those open spaces, to hang out with people who had been like me in high school and now were surprised that, holy shit, they could revise themselves into someone who was a little cooler.

This was the thing. I had kind of fucked up, but I had admitted it. And now, if he wanted to keep me, if he wanted to keep our life as it was, he would have to let me fuck things up a little more. But, like, this was marriage, right? This was love? I hoped it was.

The chaos of our daughter, so lovely and beautiful, I would always be grateful for it, how she required us to keep living, to keep moving forward, just so she didn’t leave us in her dust.