Keira
Over the last year or two, I dropped the "yet".
You know the one. It comes after you say you haven't achieved something you ought to have, by the rules of polite small talk.
"No, I'm not married yet."
"Nope, didn't find my dream job yet."
For those of us who didn't receive a clear full stop, and are still young enough to incite people in to making ticking noises and checking their metaphorical watches, it is said after explaining your parenthood status.
"No, I don't have children. Yet."
I wish I could say it came on slowly, or it just seemed to happen gracefully, as a weight gently lifted.
But I can't. Instead of ease and grace, I spent a year or so choking on that word. Biting down and swilling it around and swallowing it while it threatened to spew forth, trying to save me from awkwardness, and judgement, and the truth.
I had to do it forcefully, on purpose, and over and over.
But it's gone now. The effort was rewarded. The awkwardness and judgement were never mine to prevent or to bear.
And now I have new yets. Better yets.
"I haven't learned everything I can from this yet."
"I haven't decided how to spend my glorious Sunday, but it's going to start with a lie in because I'm not done with the cosiness yet."
"I can't make a mug you can actually drink from without spilling it all over yourself. Yet!"
"I don't know what I'll do. Yet. But I think I'm going to enjoy it."
