It will come in the moment when I am able to walk up to someone, abandon it on their shoulders, say to them “I think you understand”.
It will come when the way I feel, walking through a city at night under stars that I cannot see, lasts for days on end – even if I am miles from a city and it’s the middle of daylight.
It will be the day that I can pick up my most battered friends and carry them, like my most thumb-scarred books on a shelf, down the paths that they are too weak to walk themselves. It will come again when I can set them down and we can walk hand in hand.
it will come when old songs don’t hurt any more. It will come when I can dance to the songs that I used to cry to.
It will come when I hold my cousin’s baby for the first time, and marvel at how nobody staggers under the weight of her vast potential.
It will come in the whisper of the ocean on a beach that I have yet to visit. As it touches my toes, it will quietly inform me of what I know to be true already:
“All is well”.
It will come. This fact soothes me.