I couldn’t shake the idea of him - as much as I tried, as much as I wanted to keep myself on this independent path of redemption from my emotional three-year atomic warfare, I’d catch myself quickly reeling at his tenderness. "It’s a facade,” I said out loud in a desperate attempt to convince my heart to fall in line with my head. I look out the window and wait for the light to turn, watching almost impatiently as the perpendicular traffic speeds by. A red car, a truck, a school bus full of anticipatory kids all eager to go home, all eager for their constant. I rest my head against the glass and let out a heavy sigh. I can feel the warmth from the sun pressing through to my skin and in all my stillness I suddenly feel sick. My stomach’s in knots, twisting and turning and I can’t control this unbelievable ache as if I were on death row. I’m brought to the place of execution once more and stare out at the crowd. All the faces are recognizable - all the cuts and bruises and breaks were visible. Was I willing to sacrifice the safety of my torments - was I willing to sacrifice my own ugly, melancholy constant? I had known them for so long, and here was someone, some stranger, beckoning me to leave it all - to come into this new life of hope and peace and joy and real, genuine love. He was beckoning me to trust. “But what happens when you have no reason, at all, to trust anyone? Why should I trust when everything in this world desperately tries to convince us that nothing is in fact trustworthy?”
The light turns to green and I continue down the road feeling my emotions slide along their spectrum, with the tree-lined streets blurring across my view. Tears build up and I come to the next intersection and slow to a stop. I crumble onto the steering wheel neglecting any potential neighboring vehicle's judgements, and pull at my sleeve and bring it to my face. I pause. He’s standing there beside me, reaching out to me and pulling me towards him. His arms are strong and cradle me and I feel this deep need being met in one simple action. My insides reach back and grab a hold of the peace that he brings, giving me every reason to believe that he exists simply for me. I finally feel alive and worthy and purposed and hopeful. He whispers in my ear that he loves me, and I bury myself into his chest. I shake my head and the light, again, pushes me forward. I wrap my arm around myself in an attempt to soothe the ache that one unimaginable person has brought - I can’t be away from him, I realize. I don’t want to be away from him.
I pull into the driveway and put the car into park. The cat slowly crawls across the street and birds hover in the towering oaks. I take the key out of ignition and open the door, placing both feet on the ground before pulling myself out. I stand and become drenched in the sun and I lift my arms, spreading them wide. I tilt my head back and close my eyes in a feeble, physical attempt at vulnerability. I’m open and willing. I’m open and accepting. I’m open and afraid, but open and wanting. “I surrender,” I yell, and a smile appears on my face. “I’m trusting you,” I bellow to the heavens and return to attention. I open the back door and quickly grab my things resting on the seat, and then head inside to call him.
