In my mid-twenties, I was a hopeless romantic, hopelessly lost in dreams. Luckily, I had a friend that assured me that my hopes and dreams could become reality. Fortunately, I still have that friend today; "Don't Worry" was written with appreciation for that friend.
My husband Byron and our dog Abby on a recent visit to Vancouver Island.
Don't Worry
Come with me for a sec, and we'll travel to the past—1989. Yes, we're walking through the University of Winnipeg campus. Our destination is that three-story building just across the street. There's a day care centre on the main floor. Follow me up the stairs.
Yes, this is the classroom. Looks familiar, huh? The rows of steel-framed desks? The large window at the back of the room? The teacher's desk? The blackboard? Yes, you've—we've been here before.
Oh, you noticed them too, eh? Don't worry. They can't see us. We're safe behind the one-way glass of time.
Words flow easily between the two women. They chat about assignments, classes, professors, children, and... The brunette produces a photo of her two-year-old son.
"He's adorable!" The blonde coos. "You're so lucky. You have everything."
"Well, I don't know if I have—"
"Everything. A husband. A son. I don't even have a boyfriend. I don't think I'll ever have—"
"Sure you will."
"I hope so."
"Don't worry. It'll happen."
"How do you know?"
"I'm lucky, and I share my luck with my friends. So..."
"So?"
"So, don't waste time worrying. Have fun. It'll happen. Trust."
She sounded so sure that the blonde had no choice but to believe. And you know what? The brunette was right. It did happen. The blonde fell in love, she got married, and she lived happily ever after. And it was all because the brunette helped her belief.
written in February, 2026
