It's out before I can stop it. Words that should never have been spoken in that setting...words ill timed and tumbling out like a string of bad pearls that I couldn't pull back. Wretched tongue!
Her father died. He left a note.
And I? I asked her if she would be my trustee.
Can you imagine?
I asked her, "If I should go and they not know, would you make sure that each one of the children knows that I loved them? That I was broken, but that I loved them? Would you make them understand somehow? Can I trust you to accomplish this for me?"
How can I forget her face?
Who will be her father's trustee, and how can we give what wasn't given to us?
I lose my life in the simple beauty of her response.
We sit silent and lost, yet finding this new and crazy way of doing things together. Groping our way out of the darkness and into the light.
Hand in hand,