tell me a story...

i love to hear. to close my eyes and imagine the people and crises and triumphs you describe. they needn't be new stories. i dream that reading won't always be a solitary enterprise. maybe that's why i so long to one day have children: they will make a storyteller of me. it's been a long time now since i realized that i could never marry a man who wouldn't read to me at night... or whisper bedtime stories in my ear in the dark stillness.

perhaps that is why the reader has completely overwhelmed me. surely it is not the only reason... but i feel i'm almost drowning in it all.

standing at a distance, from my comfortable seat, my heart shouted it out, plead with him: "you know what you must do! you know what is at stake! put yourself aside!"

but knowing right from wrong is rarely the difficulty: ethics can never grip us, mobilize us, paralyze us, so much as our fears and hurts do.

there is a moment in this movie when one touch, one smile, one infinitesimal drop of kindness might have made a tremendous difference. but it was withheld. because it was impossible. sometimes we find ourselves at the end of our compassion and love. there is only so far any one of us can go, and we are, perhaps, surprised to discover we are at that border. crossing over would be right - so virtuous, so noble, so good - but it is not within our strength. we are at the end of ourselves.

there is pain that goodwill cannot erase. our best hope is to love as fiercely and give as freely as we can - as we can - and learn to forgive ourselves for the rest.