My cheerleader

Yesterday sucked. My emotions were roiling inside me and I felt trapped. Anger, sadness, grief, and a sense of uselessness plagued me. My friend texted me today; I hadn't told her about my day, but my husband remarked on it when he spoke to her.

I received a text from her about an hour ago. She consoled me and encouraged me to write. For some reason, Vanellope reaches me in a place few others can. I hear her say I'm good, and I believe it. She has a gift for making me think I can. She's earning a degree online and working full time at a job that requires a three-hour round-trip commute. She's also raising a son. I cannot grasp how she manages all this, but she still finds time to contact me and raise my spirits. Perhaps I think she doesn't have time to waste, so if she likes my writing it must be worthwhile.