Riding Out the Storm

You stood beside me waiting patiently in line for the Ride of Life.
I listened and empathized with you as you shared with me how nervous you were to get on the ride again.
You squeezed my hand as we boarded the car.
And I, yours.
You reminded me to fasten my seatbelt and lower the safety bar.
I reached over to help you with yours.

We shared a grin as the ride ascended slowly.
We screamed together as the car swiveled and dropped.
We coasted for a bit.
Your car got separated from mine.
I called to you, wanting to make sure you were okay.
You hollered back.
All was okay.

You attached your car to mine again.
My car climbed some pretty steep inclines.
It took some pretty extreme drops.
You asked me to let you off of my roller coaster.

I did.

I get that you can't stomach my ride.
Too many ups and downs.
Too many highs and lows.
Too many false starts and stops.

It's hard for me too.

I know you've been on the ride longer.
I know your own loops and twirls are hard enough.

I don't need you in my car.
I don't need you to hold my hand.
But I do want you to be there.
I do want to share my life with you.

Coasting without connecting, without sharing the ride, it's superficial.
We both know that.
We both feel that.
Maybe that's why it's been hard to navigate.
Maybe that's why I feel like I'm in this alone.

I'm riding out this storm...
Yes, you might get struck by lightning if you hold an umbrella.
But I would do it for you.