Come to me. Tell me your tale.
I will listen intently and never waver in my concentration.
I will be quiet as you find your story’s momentum.
I will nod encouragingly (but ever so slightly) when you show hesitation at the verge of revealing your deepest secrets.
I will tactfully mould and condense my questions so that you do not feel threatened.
I will ask them only in moments of lull so as not to distract from your rhythm.
I will coax you gently along the path of your memories.
And you, you will remember what you thought you had forgotten.
Your mind and heart will remember how it used to skip to a different beat
You will relive, reawaken, resurrect, for just that fleeting moment, your bittersweet thoughts, fears and desires of a life lived hard.
And in the end, you will feel your story safe with me.
You will feel nostalgic but relieved that a stranger (a friend) heard you and understood.
Heard you, and shared your pain and joy (and laughter and tears).
Heard you, and did not judge.
And I will be satiated.
I will marvel at how even the most unassuming people have their own tales to tell.
Tales I had, and hope to continue to have, the unexpected honour to be entrusted with.
So come to me and tell me your tale.
I am listening.