I think this will be somewhat of a poem; I guess.

About all the tears I’ve held space for lately.

There has been quite a lot. Is it any surprise?

Big ones, small ones. Happy and sad ones. Not really sure why ones.

‘cept it’s the happy ones I want to share today.

They’ve got me thinking. Reflecting.

A proper headshake, actually.

It’s not the best space for sensitive conversations but it’s what we’ve got.

I wait and I wait. Sometimes a flurry. Sometimes not.

The enthusiasm is sometimes hard to muster.

If I’m really being honest.

But wait I do. And wait I shall.

Oftentimes it’s a woman, who needs another.

It’s a gift I’ve got, I suppose.

“I’ve never seen her sit and talk with someone like this”

An aura, someone once said.

Lures people in and their story they are compelled to tell.

I’ve tried to teach it. We give and we take from every interaction.

You just have to be aware enough to see it.

There’s been some big ones just lately.

And what a pleasure it’s been.
 

She’s a ‘do it all’ Black mother.

A woman of incredible resilience.

We’ve been speaking for months now. Bit of this. Bit of that.

A call from the school one day, her son has self-harmed.

What do I say, she asks.

Everything is money. Money I don’t have.

She checks her sugars. Low again.

I can’t afford this canteen food.

Have to make a poster. Sustainable practice or something like that.

All this technology she says, I’m too slow.

I do what I can. Build her up. See her again.

I do what I can. Build her up. See her again.

There’s a little bit more brightness every time I do.

It’s Friday before last, how was your session I ask.

I was in a room with women doctors she says.

Little old me. I could never. Right at the start…and I don’t think I’m going to make it.

Can you believe it? she says. Women…with PhDs. Not me.

“Back home women get no such thing.” No no. Daren’t even dream.

Days roll on until a week's gone by. 

She prances across the library. Beaming.

She’s come to share her joy with me.

A 60 she says. A 60!

My boys are so proud of me. Maybe I’ll make it after all.

Another. Working, studying, working, studying.

Mum needs the money. Physio for the cancer in her bones, she says.

She’s avoiding my questions about rest and nourishment.

Surviving on Mum’s joy receiving another ‘Look what I’ve done.’

This is just a flying visit though. Easy fix, I thought.

We’ve been here a while. Lingering.

I think I’ve said something wrong. She’s welling up again.

No. I’m so grateful to be here she says...with all you kind people.

I ask what she needs. Its courage, she says.

I write it out. A post-it note. Just the trick.

What would my most courageous self do?

Stick it to the fridge I say.

Mine is bravery. I share.

An inspiration! she cries. An inspiration? I cry.

I’m going to make it across that stage one day, she says. Yes, I am.

Her story. Quite overwhelming actually.

Though not easily shaken. I’m taken aback.

Intimate partner violence a divorce did not remedy.

A home of her own, apparently not to be.

In the hospital every other week.

The victim of a scam I realise as we speak.

Held up at every angle.

Yet she shows up. She shows up. She shows up.

It’s what we do, isn’t it?

It’s too much. Quitting. she says. Though I can’t say I believe it.

We’re here for 90 minutes. It’s all out on the table.  

I hardly say a word really. I’m all ears, kind eyes and the occasional shoulder pat.

A breakthrough.

Look at me here laughing with you now.

What a relief. To be heard.  Maybe I’ll be able to sleep tonight.

Its all stuck with me, a sort of niggle.

I thought I knew what I was doing. I thought I was grateful for it all.

But to be a keeper of these stories. A collector of trust. I realise I was nothing of the sort.

So, on my own journey, I start anew, and that’s thanks to all of you.

This healing thing. Tricky business, really.

Reader, if you find yourself saying I HAVE TO this week.

That meeting, That essay. That commute.

Consider I GET TO

Because not everyone does and some that do give more than we can imagine, even just to be in the room with us.