I wonder what I would say to myself now if I could go back in time. What would I say to me if I could witness myself and talk to myself in the throes of sorrow, in the impossible reality I feared but never imagined might come true.
There is tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow, I might say. My ears at the time would hear it as a threat. But I would speak it as a promise because the only hope is the next day. There is a next day and then one after. That is all I can assure you.
Some things work like that– you hear it as a promise but it’s actually a threat. Or you hear it as a hope and it is spoken in dread.