.3%
My mind is consumed with worry
Over a subject that is 99.7% unlikely
Yet that .3% barks at the gate of my mind
Like a German Shepard at a mailman.
I realize it is a small percent,
But it is huge in my mind and in
This moment of uncertainty.
.3% means a second job, and sleepless nights.
.3% means giving up on the youth
That we have recently re-discovered.
.3% means struggles that we are not prepared to face.
.3% means we become boring for a while,
And hope that we remember how to have fun years from now.
.3% means forced interactions with family members,
And eventual awkward conversations
Filled with unwanted opinions on how to treat the .3%.
And now I wait
On a visitor that never calls ahead
But always shows around the same time.
A visitor that means sacrifice and stress, but at the end of the day
Puts my mind at ease with their reassurances of the future.
So please forgive me
For constantly asking if they’ve arrived
Carrying their red suitcase
And marching through the airport
Preaching the good world of 99.7%.
