I'm here
Updated: Nov 1
“I'm here. Now, tomorrow, always.”
He said it just like that, with the coffees already paid for. The change was still in his hand and he was sorting through the coins, not looking up, as if the words would weigh less that way.
An ordinary Saturday morning. One of those when you sit down at a small table and, before you know it, you're talking about the future, and your thoughts slip off towards the worries that keep you awake some nights.
I tried to laugh it off. I didn't manage.
He left a coin on the saucer and went out.
I stayed at the bar a while longer, alone, staring at nothing in particular. I know his number by heart.
He's one of the few I'd ring at three in the morning, the car pulled over on the hard shoulder, rain hammering on the roof,
and never once wonder if I was bothering him.
When I came out, he was already on the other side of the street, waiting for the green light.
He turned, found my eyes, and nodded. Just once.
The way you nod when there is nothing left to explain.
Questions for reflection
What are you willing to drop or put off to be there when someone calls?
How do you recognise the worry someone is hiding behind a joke?
What do you feel when someone calls you at their hardest moment?
