Day before the decade

“Did you know that I can juggle?”  I ask him. “Uhhh, no, I didn’t know that.” “Well, I can,” I say “and I’m actually pretty good at it.” “I guess you never showed me that part of you he says with a contagious smirk. We laugh and it feels good to fall back into familiar rhythms, if only for a moment. 

We drive away together, the four of us, from our favorite pizza spot, and I remember that it’s the day before our decade began and ended. There is a peace inside my bones, and most noticeably, not an ounce of resentment.  I can’t help but wonder if it’s the fact that now he knows I can juggle, that there are worlds inside of me that he doesn’t know, and probably never will. Or if it’s just time, doing what it’s supposed to. Probably time. But maybe both.