“It’ll be fine,” is a phrase my mother uses. A lot. She uses it while shopping, when cooking, while trying to avert a disaster. It used to, and sometimes still does, annoy me. I didn’t want “fine.” “Fine” meant ok, just good enough, scraping a pass. I wanted “great,” “excellent,” “perfect.”
As I’ve got older, I’ve found myself using the phrase. I use it a lot at work, with my husband, with myself. The meaning of “fine” has changed quite a bit: not it is more than satisfactory, it means “it will be just right.” I think I use it more as I’ve relaxed my perfectionist streak, as I’ve tried to adopt an easy-going, relaxed attitude to motherhood. Now, sometimes, “It’ll be fine,” means “I can cope.”
When I was planning this blog, I kept thinking of the song, “It’s a fine life,” from the musical Oliver. That song is all about life not being perfect, but enjoying it nevertheless. Times may be hard, there may be challenges, but we can always look for the positive.
So “fine” no longer means “adequate.” It no longer even means “good-looking.” It means good – not perfect, but still to be enjoyed. “Fine” makes the most of life.