To Cross the Bridge
Failure... and trying again
I let him down.
This bridge I could have crossed–
I walked away.
I failed.
And I felt the failure like a knife in my gut.
With every step taking me further away from the bridge, the knife twisted.
It sent spasms of regret through my body.
How could I expect him to forgive me?
I couldn’t forgive myself.
I waited
as long as I could.
I stayed away
until I couldn’t anymore.
Then I faced him.
I tried to avoid his eyes,
but he looked at me and said,
“You were great.”
I looked up to see if there was sarcasm smeared across his face,
but there wasn’t.
There was only sincerity.
“You were great.”
He didn’t say I did good,
because I didn’t.
But that didn’t matter so much,
because I’m not valuable based on what I do, but who I am.
He went on to tell me
he was proud of me for even stepping up to the bridge.
Then he told me
how next time he knew I could
and next time he knew I would
cross it.
He even took time to explain how to keep putting one foot in front of the other.
He empowered me.
And you know what?
Today I stepped up to the bridge again.
And today I crossed it.
***
From the book my heart poured out by Jordan Aspen
About the Creator
Paul and Jordan Aspen
Professionally, we help entrepreneurs get other people to sell for them through the power of social proof. Learn more at civanpro.com
Personally, we write... stories, poems, educational articles and more. Read more here on Vocal
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