The Embrace Comes Before The Words

The afternoon is the long middle where you rehearse the words until they are perfect, only to freeze when you finally see their face. You stand there, mouth closed, terrified that the apology will only prove you were right to be afraid all along.

But the light does not need your performance to be perfect. It does not require the speech to be flawless before it can enter the room.

There was a father who saw his son coming home from a long way off. He ran.

Before the apology, before the speech — he ran. The embrace came first.

The fear tells you that you must earn the welcome with the right words. The truth is that the welcome is already waiting.

You do not have to get it right to be held. The silence between you is not a wall.

It is the space where the light is already running.