Maybe, it both plagued her and inspired her to say it.
Maybe was both the bane of her existence and her reason for living.
She rubbed the sleep from her eyes as the cool, early morning breeze swept over her face. It was a welcomed reprieve from the oppressive heat of the day before. The hazy, grey glow of a morning just before sunrise let her know that she was awake much too early; especially for a Saturday morning. Taking in a deep breath, she waited.
‘Maybe today will be better,’ whispered sleepily from within the depths of her mind.
“Maybe,” she smiled to herself.
‘Maybe it won’t. You have so much you haven’t done,’ came that worried and fretful friend.
She turned into the comfort of a fetal position in her bed, and pressed her cheek against the welcoming soft embrace of her crimson pillow, “Maybe.”
‘You have no reason to think it will be better,’ it continued. She buried her face deeper. The rustling of the morning glory leaves hanging from the trees just outside her bedroom window could be heard, “I don’t?”
‘No, you do not.’
‘But… but, maybe… just maybe it will be better. Today you may meet him. Today, today you may do more than yesterday,’ there was a glimmer of innocent hopefulness like that of a child with a world of possibilities before her. In that moment, nothing was impossible. There was nothing that could not be done. And there was an excitement and peace to be found in such blind optimism.
“Maybe. Yes, just maybe. If I plan, if I start early,” she replied. From the corner of her eye, she could just make out the first tinges of the rising sun. A rose hue encroaching steadily into the grey which once prevailed unopposed.
‘You have a long way to go,’ it spoke as the grey of the night lingered, ‘you have longer still to go.’ She fell back into herself, her senses becoming more acute as the weight of those words lay heavily upon her. She sunk deeper into the soft foam of her mattress, it felt as if she would lie there indefinitely.
“Maybe I should I just stay here,” she whispered up to the listening ceiling, lying on her back.
‘It would be so easy.’
‘It would be safer.’
‘You wouldn’t have to worry or hurt.’
“I wouldn’t,” with each affirmation she sunk lower and the ceiling above continued to smile down comfortingly. It listened with no judgement, just simple acceptance. Maybe she could just allow the time to pass and no one would notice that she had let it slip away. Perhaps, in the quiet, microcosm of her little room, time would forget about her. Maybe, just maybe she could slip through its fingers, the first to ever, and she could remain in that limbo of daylight, where the rose glow met the grey haze in an eternal dance. Maybe.
‘Time does not forget,’ came unwanted reason, ‘there are those who will not let you forget or be forgotten,’ it told her. She turned her head to the closed bedroom door, and she remembered that just outside of her tiny universe awaited a thousand more mini universes all insisting on colliding into one another. This was life.
“Time won’t forget me.”
“No matter how hard I try.”
‘It will not.’
There was silence as the three allowed this revelation to sink in.
‘But maybe, today will be better. Maybe today, it will all make sense,’ the rose of the early morning sunrise was now accompanied by the fast approaching orange of a blazing and energetic sun. The grey becoming nothing more than a sliver of a night past.
‘But maybe it won’t’
“You are right about that, too.”
Again, the three were silent. They sat together in contemplation. In time, the three became one, and she was left alone once again.
“Maybe it will, maybe it won’t,” she pushed herself into a sitting position, and pressed her knees up against her chest. For today, just like yesterday and every day before, maybe would have to be enough.
She swung her legs over her mattress and placed her feet on the carpeted floor. The sound of bacon frying could be heard on the other side of the door. A family breakfast would be nice.
“Yes, today maybe will have to be enough.”
¹ Photo taken by A. Reneé for Darling Afflatus, 2015.