Blue

This morning, I woke up and still felt the peace from last night. That does not happen often.

Usually, peace is something I grasp at, something fleeting, something fragile. Most mornings, I wake with the weight of the world pressing down before I have even opened my eyes. But today, that weight was not there. Not entirely.

I expected it to disappear the moment my feet touched the floor, to feel the doubt creeping in before I even took my first breath of the day. But it didn’t. It lingered, like the last note of a song, like the warmth of candlelight even after the flame is gone.

And I held onto it.

I did my morning prayers and they did not feel like an obligation. I was not desperately searching for an answer, or begging for clarity, or asking God to fix something inside me. I simply prayed. Not with urgency. Not with fear. Just… spoke. Let the words come. Some were memorized prayers, some were my own thoughts, and for the first time in a long while, I did not feel like I was speaking into the void.

The mansion was still the same, full of noise and movement, voices overlapping in the hallways, music playing from rooms with open doors. Logan grumbling over his coffee, Jubilee laughing at something on the television, Ororo sitting by the window as she read. Nothing had changed.

Except me.

For once, I did not feel like I was walking through the day waiting for something to go wrong. I did not feel the gnawing weight of doubt pressing down on me.

I found myself watching the others, not with jealousy or longing, but simply with appreciation. I saw Scott and Jean talking over their plans for the day, their heads tilted toward each other in quiet understanding. I saw Kitty listening to music, mouthing the words as she flipped through a magazine, completely in her own world. I saw Logan on the couch with his boots up, flipping through a newspaper he probably wasn’t reading.

And I thought—this is good.

Not perfect. Not easy. But good.

And maybe that is what I have been missing. Maybe I have been so consumed with questions and doubts, with searching for something that makes all of this make sense, that I have forgotten how to simply live. How to look at what I have and say, this is enough.

I sat outside again today, just for a little while. It was not quite as peaceful as last night, the afternoon sun was bright, and there were voices in the distance from others training in the yard. The world was not still like it had been beneath the stars. But the sky was still there. Blue as ever.

And so was I.

I pressed my hands into the grass, let my tail curl around my ankle, and just breathed.And for  the first time in a long while, I did not ask for anything.I did not try to change anything.

I simply was.

And that was enough.