Like my mother before me,
I am a worrier.
Waking in the middle of the night,
My mind hard at work,
Cataloging every thing that requires worry…
Did I take care of that?
Did I remember everything?
Oh, no-I have got to do that first thing!
How will I do it all?
What if I fail?
Round and round the questions tumble,
A never ending spin cycle.
When will I learn to breathe, to trust, to let go?
I write things down, I send myself silly texts of to-do lists,
And still, my mind spins and spins in the night,
Forgetting it will all come out in the wash,
Whether I worry or not.