I have nothing in my hands to offer, nothing to give.
Is my presence enough, just being present, a present sufficient for this time? All this time, I have told myself no.
That I need to bring something besides just myself. I am not enough.
Here is a meal, a gift, something. To show that I am worthy, or that I have a reason to be here. See, I baked a cake. See, I baked a pie. Will you let me in?
But today, I choose to arrive, just me.
On the drive over, I notice a few uninvited companions.
Rolling down the window near the overpass, I toss Shame toward the underbrush. In my rearview mirror, I spot her rolling like a tumbleweed.
Keep reading with a 7-day free trial
Subscribe to Limning the Ordinary to keep reading this post and get 7 days of free access to the full post archives.