Before I Go Any Further
Instinctively, I reach for the hand but then pull back, remembering all of my stuff. I am convinced that whoever the voice belongs to can’t possibly see it, because if he did, he definitely wouldn’t be so eager to invite me closer. He can’t see the mess I am, of this I am certain.
“What is it?” I hear.
I look around nervously and gesture, “This.”
“It’s not that bad, he laughs, but I don’t see it that way.
“It is that bad, you don’t know what’s in there.” I say,
“Then show me.” he says, matter of fact.
I freeze. he can’t see my face but my silence feels panicked and he seems to sense my reluctance,
“It’s okay, there’s no rush.”
Finally, the words pour out, “There isn’t anything I can really do about it, I mean, it comes with me.” I’m getting discouraged.
“Well, there is certainly nothing you can do about it alone. But you aren’t alone. I’m right here. I have nowhere else more important to be. I’ll help you.”
“I don’t know how long it will take…” I am about ready to cry because he is so kind and I feel so stupid.
Then I will come to you first.
