12th March
Today has been such a whirl of emotions, I simply must write it all down before sleep scatters the edges of it. I woke this morning feeling a certain excitementthe good kind, like there are balloons tied to your shoes. Not a girl, not even particularly young anymore, but I glanced at myself in the mirror and felt I looked rather smart. My new navy dress with the bit of cream lace at the collar, the patent shoes with their little heels (not too high, mind)I felt like Id given myself the perfect little birthday gift.
Clutching a modest bouquet of tulips my colleagues had treated me to over tea and cakenothing too fancy, just right, reallyI walked down the corridor at work, feeling lighter than air. It was as though I were being held aloft, a proper birthday spirit. Everyone had smiled, and there was an odd freedom in the way I moved, almost floating.
Mary Stafford came the other waya woman from another department, always with a sarcastic tongue. Never a word without an edge. She appraised me with that look she has and then, with a wry smile, said something like, New dress, hmm? Careful its not a touch tight, love, wouldnt want the seams coming apart! And those little heelsone hopes theyre stronger than they look, given the load! She meant it as a joke, but the sting landed perfectly. Just a little prickenough to burst a bubble.
Suddenly, everything I wore seemed childish and silly. The dress looked cheap, the lace garish, my red lipstick too bold for someone staring sixty in the face. The heels seemed ridiculous, and I even wondered if there were wrinkles showing beneath my powder. I felt myself shrink, shrinking further until I was something deflated and heavy. I fumbled awkwardly with my flowers, which now seemed wilting and laughable.
Mary sauntered off, quite pleased with her workshe has a knack for that, like someone doling out sharp pins. People steer clear when shes about; nobody fancies being reduced to a joke before lunch.
In the afternoons, Mary disappears to her tidy little office, and I always imagine her prodding at unsuspecting people on her computer. She seems to believe that the more she jabs at others, the lighter shell feel inside. Oddly, it seems to have the opposite effect. Like a hedgehogexcept her prickles seem to curl inward and fester.
So, there I was, clutching my drooping tulips, cursing my choice of shoes and dress, when I finally reached Mr. Benjamin Morgans office. The Director himselfkind, distinguished, with his balding head and a sort of Roman profile. He stepped into the corridor just as I arrived, and there were loads of people about. He said, in that booming voice of his, Splendid work, Jane! Just signed off your bonus with senior management. And might I just sayno offence intendedyou look wonderful today! Though Im told I should watch my compliments in this day and age!
The corridor went quiet. In a world where even a kind word risks reprimand, jibes and sneers slip by unnoticed. Strange, that.
His words brought the lightness back. I felt myself rising, floating to the high, ornate ceiling. My dress sparkled, my shoes became the slippers of queens. My wrinkles were gone, and the tulips brightened in my hands, glowing crimson and gold.
Mr. Morgan looked up at me with a knowing smile. Hed seen me soar before, I thinkjust like those old paintings on grand manor ceilings.
He offered me his handnot to bring me down, but to hold onto. Together, to steady each other. To share heart, soul, and perhaps a home thats quietly lonelya home longing for someone who can fly.
And fly I will, as long as theres kindness, hope, and a bit of magic in the ordinary. When you are valued, you cant help but soar. As for those barbed words and their barbed ownerswell, they only grow lonelier, their pins turned inward. Id sooner keep my distance, keep calm, and carry on loving, hoping, and believing. Rising ever higher, above it all.
