This Is Not Going to Last

I had a good day—
laughter rising easy,
often in glee
over a song that made me smile.

For a while,
everything felt light.

Then the old grind stirred,
eager to offend,
to pull me back
into its steady hum.
But I remembered—
this is not going to last.

Author’s Note: I wrote “This Is Not Going to Last” as a quiet rehearsal for goodbye—training myself to hold both delight and drag with the same open hand. When the day brightens, I try not to cling; when the weight returns, I try not to flinch. I keep repeating it, almost like breath: this light, this heaviness, this moment—none of it is permanent, and that is where the gentlest kind of peace begins.