Given that in the interim we've both given birth, there's been Christmas, and many over things which are actually life changing this brief exchange has haunted me in a disproportionate way. Mainly (I tentatively wonder) because I feel on the precipice. As if I am verging on a new time. Yes, a new time with my newly bigger family, but also as I have been on such a journey of depression and I wonder, in some ways, if I'm heading for a new path somehow. So used am I to the language of the scary woods, the fear and desolation, the sense that some beast is chasing me and shadowing my every turn as I run on uneven ground which could crumble at any turn, that I don't quite know how to approach the light on the path ahead.
Could this be what being happy is? Or at least a road towards it? And if it is, do I have some or any choices in what happy means? Is this the bit of the movie where I get helped out, and I can maybe, tentatively, make a start at least at guessing at the woman I want to be.
It is an exciting wilderness to wander and wonder in. I feel I am nearly there, at a place where I can think about and try out being 'THATwoman', see whether thatwoman-I'd-like-to-be and the-woman-I-am match up. I suspect not, and I'll have to try on some roles, like the early morning cake baker and novel writer, seeing if they fit me, like new pairs of gloves. And like gloves I'm sure though the women I could be may all look the same, some will fit better than others.