Twenty-two weeks ago I tied this bracelet on thinking it would hang around for a few weeks and fall off and I'd own my wrist again. Twenty-two weeks. That's half a pregnancy. There are no more words on it and it's rolled into this dirty yellow string but there is a part of me that doesn't just want to remove it. I don't know much about wishes coming true but I do feel like this little, dirty, yellow thing is holding me accountable for things that are pretty important to me. That hasn't stopped me from checking this thing almost daily for weak spots where it may one day break. I imagine my wrist will feel pretty naked without it once it does fall off, but if the tradition is to be believed my life will be pretty full and I won't have time to notice my little, yellow bracelet is gone.
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