Fine

How are you? Fine. You've said it so often, it doesn't even sound like a lie anymore.

And you have your reasons. The last time you cried, they froze. The time you got angry, they left the room for an hour. So you learned. Keep it small. Keep it down.

Sad? Lid on. Hurt? Lid on. Excited about something they might not get? Lid on, just in case. Fine at breakfast. Fine at dinner. Fine on your anniversary.

It works. No scenes. No awkward silences. Just two very polite people sharing a kitchen and a calendar. And a pot that rattles a little more every year.

Somewhere along the way, you start to feel less. Not just the hard things. The good ones too. A lid doesn't choose. You weren't being cold. You were protecting them. But you also took away their chance to learn how to hold you.

So what if they can't handle it yet, but could? What if the lid keeps them out, as much as it keeps you in?

You don't have to throw the lid off. Lift it an inch. Say one true thing, and what you need with it: I'm sad today. You don't have to fix it. Just stay. They might stumble. Let them. People learn to hold what they're trusted with. And if being open isn't safe with someone, that's a different story.

And maybe one evening, when they ask how you are, you'll actually answer. Out loud. What are you still calling fine?