Sometimes we struggle. We push and pull at each other, at the threads between us, at the ties that bind us. We strain against the fabric and look for tears to appear. And then all at once they come. Little rips that loosen the tension and we spring back, each of us gripping our edges in terror. At once grateful for the space, and panicked by the distance.
And then comes the calm.
Wordlessly we work from opposite ends of the universe. Weaving those threads together, closing the rips with respect and love. We meet somewhere in the middle in whispers, our hands working closely to tie knots in our mending, to bind together our tomorrows. We fix those tears with heartstrings, newly formed sinews that are forever unbreakable. Somewhere in our work we see our fears, anxieties, old hurts and future worries. We knit them together like an old quilt, a story of us. Before and after. Past, present and future.
And somewhere, across the roadmap we have created, hides our souls. Stitched together with hope and reckless abandon. Somehow we have become one. And we are strong.