The Light Is Already Running Toward You

The engine is off, but your hands are still gripping the wheel. The building across the lot looks like a fortress you cannot breach.

You came this far, and now the silence of the car feels safer than the door you are supposed to walk through. The middle of the day is heavy with this kind of hesitation — the gap between intention and action where fear grows loudest.

But listen — the light does not wait for you to be brave before it meets you. It is already in the parking lot.

It is sitting in the passenger seat. It walked across the pavement before you did.

There is a father who saw his son coming home from a long way off. He did not wait for the apology.

He ran. Before the speech, before the shame could be spoken — he ran.

That same love is running toward you right now, not because you made it inside, but because you showed up. You do not have to walk in perfect.

You just have to open the door.