hallways

I had a dream the other night.

I was upstairs in the hallway

of my childhood home.

My younger self was staring right back at me –

a long stretch of hardwood floor

illuminated by the simple moonlight

separated us.

She was visibly upset;

tears streaming down her face.

She seemed scared to move,

almost frozen.

I didn’t react how I thought I would.

I didn’t run over to console her.

I just stood there

frozen as well,

terrified as to what she might say –

what she might need.

I stood there wanting her to stop,

wanting it all to stop.

Because I’ve been trying –

trying to fix it all.

Trying with therapy,

trying with speaking my truth,

trying with saying what needed to be said.

But in that moment,

as her intense helpless eyes

looked to me for more,

I could tell –

that was never what she needed.

For her

it was much more simple than that.

She didn’t need answers.

She didn’t need someone to fix it.

She just needed someone to listen to her,

to hear her pain,

to sit in it with her,

to validate her,

and to be a mirror

and share with her.

And as I woke up

and sat in it –

the moonlight dancing through the curtains as tears streamed down my face –

I felt terrified; 

terrified of being scared

without her. 

📸 by SJ Objio @sjobjio on Unsplash