Worried

I’ve been worrying about her all day because I know it was going to be difficult for her.  She has had to do something today that she had wanted to do for some time and today was the day when everything was going to fall into place.  Perhaps concerned is a better word, I’ve been concerned about her all day.  I haven’t lost my appetite or anything like that, I haven’t lost my concentration and so I have been more concerned than worried.  Yes concerned, not worried.

But I have been thinking about her all day, in those quiet moments when my mind has wandered a little I’ve looked up from my work and thought about her.  I have wanted to be with her, to hold her hand, to offer her support and help her get through this difficult day but she is a big girl now and I wouldn’t have been any help.  I would have got in her way, undermined her confidence and probably would have made things worse for her.  It was something that she had wanted to do for a while now but the timing never seemed to be right, but today it was and I would not have helped, not really.  It was something that she had to do by herself.

I’ve been thinking about how she had prepared herself, how she had got everything sorted but still she was worried, more worried than I was and I guess that I could feel her trepidation, like the shell of an egg or the skin of a balloon, palpable yet fragile.  It was with me all morning, her worry, her nervousness and that is why I have been concerned, waiting for something to happen, something difficult that she had wanted to do for a long time.

Lunchtime arrived and I rang her, early in case she had had to dash out but she wasn’t available.  I tried her several times as she might have taken a later lunch and of course I left her a message but I didn’t hear from her, I didn’t get to speak to her and so I have been getting more worried, or at least more concerned.  I’d started to imagine that it had all gone wrong, that she hadn’t managed to do what she had wanted to and that she was in turmoil, all alone with no one to turn to, without my support.  I imagined her in tears, wringing her hands in despair, drying her eyes with a wet handkerchief, dabbing her face with cold water to take the redness out of her eyes before she went back to face her colleagues and I have been feeling guilty.  Concerned and guilty for not having been there to hold her hand and offer my support when she had had to do that difficult thing.  I would have known though if everything had gone wrong, wouldn’t I?  Someone would have rang me, she would have called me herself to let me know but perhaps she hasn’t been able to, perhaps she has been too distraught, perhaps it had all gone wrong.

I’m still worrying about her this afternoon, perhaps more worried than concerned now.  I know how important it was to her, this difficult thing and by now it will all be over, for better or worse and I don’t know which.  I’ll be seeing her in a few hours though, we’ll meet where we normally do and she will tell me how it all went, whether it went as she had hoped or whether it had been as difficult as she had feared.  Until then I guess that I’ll still be worried or at least concerned.  Yes, concerned is probably a better word.

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