Courage is Letting Go

Like a baby, I have thrown my toys out of the pram, angry at those who moved freely around me and paid me little attention, sure that someone somewhere just didn’t care, only to realise that I might never be the centre of the universe.

Like a toddler, I have held a balloon from the string, watching it in wonderment as it obeyed my every move. Wanting to see it fly away into the air, I released it and, for a moment, felt such joy as I had never experienced, only to cry for it to come back.

Like a child, I have kicked the football around the field, running around my team-mates and imagining I’m Messi, trying to keep the ball and not passing it, only for it to be effortlessly taken from me.

Like a teenager, I have looked out of the window, dreaming that history never existed and religious education was only for sheep, hopelessly lost and confused in my own little world, dying for the bell to ring, only to be told to stay behind after class for daydreaming.

Like a bird, I have taken flight from familiarity, determined to find a better place to be, my strength sapped by regret, sure that blame lay elsewhere, and as I travelled further away I would wonder about those I’d left, only to see that nothing had changed, in me, whilst I was gone.

Like an adult, I have set my mind to the road without giving way, snipping off minutes at the expense of others, completely unaware that it was my own time I was wasting, a crash waiting to happen, only to run out of petrol on the motorway.

Like an old man, I have cast aside the love I once held dear, denying myself acts of grace, comforted by sadness alone as I counted down the days till they could say what they really thought of me, gently weeping into a pillow like a baby.