The Sounds of Settling

I have had this job for a week and a half now.

Things are going pretty well, actually.

I no longer have the threat of piling up debts cluttering up my head. I no longer have to decided between groceries and gas. I no longer have to swallow the gravel of guilt when I notice my mother has slipped another twenty dollars into my bank account.

(It’s hard to catch a breath – they tangle somewhere in the back of my throat.)

My firm schedule will start next week. Specific hours. Forty a week. Benefits and insurance.

I went to the doctor for the first time in over two years instead of battling this infection on my own. I’d been suffering for almost a week when my insurance card arrived in the mail.

I didn’t have to suffer anymore.

There will be things I miss. I work evenings so I won’t get to see my parents when I come home. I won’t be able to have a mid-week dinner with the beau.

(I inhale for four seconds, let it linger for moment, before releasing it.)

My stomach is no longer twisted into knots.


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