In the absence of fear...

one can only imagine the possibility.

"I swear that's a quote from somewhere," I remark. However cute or lame, these things sometimes reign true. I see her squatted down by the curb of my driveway, drawing her index finger around a circle of pebbles and road dust. She's young, about the age of three. As I approach her, she turns around to face me. She says in a modest, most mature voice, "what is it that you've come to see? To look upon an old ruin? It's done. Just let it be." I'm not taken aback by this sudden onset of words. It's all right, "it's okay," I tell her. "I realize that it has long been finished. I just thought I would come back to see how you were doing, I suppose." She temporarily halts her finger's circular motions and gazes up at me intently with deep, grey eyes. She didn't need any more convincing, but I continued.

I said "Look," sounding cautious. She notices my pity almost instantly, and roles her juvenile eyes. But I tell her, "I don't blame you. We haven't spoken for years. It was tough, I realize, and there's no way it's finished. Those times have yet to come, and...I just wanted... to know, if you were safe, and-" She holds out her tiny, white hand to stop my pitiful attempt at words. "You don't know what you mean," and she returns her attention to the road. I don't seem to know how to handle it. I don't know how it seems others do it... sometimes.

She's right, though. She has the ode to a simpler time... despite the fact of how complicated everything is. Words of wisdom from a three year old, and her silence indulges me.

She ceases her pebble moving and looks at me once more with undisturbed, penetrating grey eyes.

"After all that happened those years, I'm still here. I'm not destroyed. You made it this far, so stop dwelling. You will never be left alone."

Sometimes things are simpler than they appear. She says, "Take my hand. Walk with me." I help her up off the curb. Together we walk down the road, hand in hand.