It’s still there.
I feel it lurking beneath the surface. It’s like an underground lake that could rise at any time, flooding the streets that should be safe and dry.
It’s there when headlights dazzle my eyes. When I hurtle down dark roads without seeing where I’m going.
It’s there when past arguments resurface in my memory. Years-old arguments… sometimes decades-old arguments. They never go away. They just dive beneath the surface, waiting to come back up.
It’s there when I am judged by people who care about me. It’s there when people who care about me are angry. It erupts onto the streets, leaving them flooded.
But the streets are fine. They are safe and dry. And right now, they are lined with Christmas lights. There is peace. There is joy.
The lake still waits beneath, as it always does. But it is manageable. When the water rises, I know it will fall again. It won’t go away, but it won’t consume me either.
I won’t let it.
Because these are my streets.