on the verge

When you are on the verge of becoming, every little thing has hope.

My mom visited me for six days, and I can’t encapsulate it in a journal entry. Our relationship has become just what I always wished for it: a strong, close friendship with boundaries that enable instead of stifle.

We stumbled upon a small shop that sells antique maps and prints in North Beach called Schein and Schein, and as I was riffling through a small box, something below the shelf caught my eye. There she was again, my black swan. Hello, my little harbinger. Thanks to my mom, she flew home with me that evening.

I must be doing something right. I have amazing people in my life — my partner, my parents, my flatmate, my friends — and most of the time I am in the present moment with them, which is more than I can say of the me of just a few years ago. Progress. I see signals on the horizon, shadows of wings against clouds. Hope.

About Halsted M. Bernard

Halsted, a/k/a cygnoir, does stuff with words. Her favourite things to do with words are keeping this diary, writing stories, and organising information. She lives in Edinburgh with her husband, two cats, a few gadgets, several fountain pens, and many books.

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