The prodigal son.
is an incredible story, when you hear it told by a person who feels it, believes it, lives it, breathes it.
i had this image, in my head, as he told the story, so incredibly.
I'm going to write it out...
'Dust.
Big, blue, sky.
Once beautiful, now simply empty.
I have been walking down this road a long time.
I don't know why.
I don't know where I'm going.
Or where I think I'm going.
Or where I used to think I was going...
I don't know why I started walking this road.
But I am slowly realising that I don't like it anymore.
For a while, the thrill of the open road alone was enough.
Not anymore, I want to have a destination, a purpose.
And more than that, I want to already be somewhere.
But I am going nowhere.
As I realise this, I think that perhaps I should turn around.
I seem to remeber having come from somewhere worth being.
But I'm not sure if it was real anymore...
did I dream it?
Weirder things have happened.
But...but what if it was real?
This question is enough to halt my dusty trudging, for at least a moment.
But...what will I say to him?
Man, did I screw it...
I concoct an incredibly apologetic, begging, pathetic speech and rehearse.
A thousand times.
Then, finally, I feel nearly ready to turn around and start walking back to a place that may or may not exist, may or may not be as good as I remember and where I may or may not be welcome.
A deep breath.
Alright, I'll do it.
it's got to be better than this...
Ok, two deep breaths.
Slowly turn, expecting...
well expecting nothing honestly.
Expecting a long sad walk home, to a hostile, disappointing home.
But it's got to be better than this...
I turn, and there you are!
I try to begin my speech, but it's impossible because somehow we are already hugging, so tightly, so warmly, with a love so intense it verges on and blurs with desperation.
A hug that says I missed you, on both sides.
A hug that says I'm sorry, and I forgive you.
A hug that says about time you got here and about time I did this.
A hug that says I love you.
