Picture a man. late twenties. Staring at the phone precarious oscillating between opposing arguments; to make or not make that call. Its been years at least. So he keeps postponing. A home without children is surely a dead place. Their laughter lifts his spirit and he indulges
How did he get here. A meeting earlier in the day an old friend. A picture of a crush…
Now he’s seated in a dark room in a reclining chair analysing different scenarios around this initiation of communication. Breaking of the silence. Questioning his own motivation. He promises himself to keep it simple, some humour …
She’s happy, he’s happy they’re happy… she wishes to meet… he agrees yeah, she’s being polite he knows it won’t happen. It’s okay, her voice… all questions he answers distantly. Some questions however remain unasked unanswered and so will they remain.
Family is important. Babies change everything. the grandmother pressing him into starting his own brood. He’s getting old is what he’s told
He wanted to remember then forget. Already on his mind he has persons he’ll call next to help, inadvertently achieve this.
Being a man requires recognising the limits of your abilities, accepting them and adapting yourself to this fact. Letting go, surrender, forgiveness is not for the weak. Read somewhere that ‘big men forgive much but they don’t forgive themselves’.