There once was a time I was blissfully happy. I felt like everything had finally worked out as it should. I felt like the future was going to be a beautiful one. I had my baby back.
This time two years ago I had everything I wanted. But it wasn’t destined to last. Six weeks later, happiness crushed, wondering what had happened, wondering if it had all been a dream.
Even though those memories of that time hurt, they are starting to also make me smile. It’s bitter-sweet. At once remembering just how perfect things were (stood there, arms around each other, her smiling up at me, wishing that time would stop and we could be like that forever) and at the same time realising just how much has changed and wincing at the sharp almost physical pain of that recollection.
It’s getting easier. I always knew that it would. And one day I know I’ll look back at that time with nothing by happiness in my heart.