I use that word a lot to describe my life with my husband. Precarious. I think it has to be one of my favorite words. It makes sense. It embodies the entire prison experience in which I find myself. You just never know. When you think you know, things change. When you’re not sure if anything will ever change, things change. You are just never quite prepared, you don`t know. Life is like a bomb and you aren’t sure if you’ll be blown to bits or if you’ll get a fun surprise of confetti after the smoke clears. “Did I make it through another blast?”. Okay!
I’ve said it once and I`ll say it again: Hope is dangerous. I hold onto it, I love it, I pray for it, but it is dangerous in this situation. My husband tells me to hope freely, to believe, to be positive. I have my reservations and I think those reservations have allowed me to support my husband in the realest way possible for all these years. I want to hope but you have to have just enough but not too much when life is uncertain. Maybe I`m going about this hope thing wrong, though. What I do know is that I am not sure what is going to happen, but does anyone ever? The icing of not knowing is spread thick on this cake, so thick I can hardly tell which way is up some days.
Indeed things seem things to be rolling in a favorable way but right now I feel like I’ve walked the tightrope out to the very center and I`ve frozen. Do I backtrack to potential safety? Is there safety? Do I close my eyes and move forward? Do I fall? How far is down? There is no safety net.
While I wallow in the unknown and stress about what comes next, my lover very kindly reminds me to breathe, to not worry, to live with a heart that is bursting with possibility. I wonder how he is so certain. I wonder if he finds himself on that same tightrope. I imagine he does but that he doesn’t let the unknown bother him, he doesn’t care that this situation is precarious because he believes we have the power of creation through our actions and love.