It felt like fear in the beginning.
Or something resembling fear.
Like standing at the edge.
Then the feeling changed.
It opened up into the utmost stretch of possibility.
The difference of standing on that same edge, but now with the assurance that she could fly.
That something would certainly reach out and catch her.
And the best part was the feeling of being washed over.
Like the gentlest wave of goodness, gathering strength in the distance.
Building on itself.
Piling high, until the crest of it overtook her.
Leaving her lost in the undertow.
Weightless – losing sense of what was up and what was down.
And with every word – just the sound of his voice – she was overwhelmed.
It had been years since then.
But the mere thought could take her back.
The thought could hold her hand.
Walk by her side.
And whisper comforts in her ear.