". . . little shall I grace my cause

In speaking for myself. Yet, by your gracious patience,

I will a round unvarnish'd tale deliver . . ."

(William Shakespeare's Othello, I.iii.88-90)

Thursday, August 23, 2012


It's such an elusive thing, trust. What is it, exactly? A feeling? Or a decision? Whatever it is, one can't get through life without it. Simply crossing the street requires a goodly measure of it. But then comes that day when you trust that the oncoming car is going to stop for the red light and you step out in front of it, but guess what? The car doesn't stop. And you get mowed down. And for a long time after you are afraid to step into traffic again. But you realize you have no choice. You have to get to the other side of the street. You have to cross it. And so you put yourself out there again and hope with all your being that that car in the distance sees you and realizes you are not trying to get in its way--you are just trying to cross the street like the pedestrian you are.

Green light . . . . Go!


Susan said...

Or, maybe, you decide never to cross the street again...

Cheryl said...

Sigh. Yes. Or maybe you cross but only because someone else picks you up and carries you.