I’m maturing. I can feel it.
I’m starting to accept that life will happen to me.
I don’t dwell on the small stuff like I used to.
I can appreciate that things typically work themselves out.
I trust my mother when she says, “This too shall pass.”
More importantly, I trust myself.
On especially good days, I even slightly accept that I won’t always get my own way.
(Except if it involves my Dad. With him, I’ll always get my way).
Those days are rare, but they still count.
It’s so cliché, but I can feel it.