The Parable of the Young Man

She found herself walking past the brownstones. The brownstones she had looked at, longed for, loved. She felt alone, but no longer lonely. Hers would be a good life. The gentle drape of her scarf on her face was a comfort that told her who she was in the crowd walking past yet another new building going up.

She neared the water--the cold dolphin-gray lake—and she felt only slightly afraid when the waves began crashing upon the shore.

"This is right," she thought. "This is how the water should be on this day."

A tall, fair-haired young man in jeans and an army jacket fell into step beside her, unaware that they had become two on a journey.

"Where are you going?" he asked, not invested in her answer.

"To my life," she replied.

"I'll walk with you," was his return.

They drew near the lake, and they saw the people who were afraid.

"I should be with them," she thought. "I am like they are." She was more than surprised to find herself still walking with the young man. He was her protector. He was not her guide. Merely a companion, he walked, and she walked with him.

The waves turned brown and became fierce, crowding the shore, worrying the mudstone walls until they became one with the waves.

"Suppose I lose my footing," she thought, but still she kept walking over ground that should have given way under her feet. She journeyed with the free-spirited young man, but only because his way was her way too.

Finally they reached the safe hill, still green with grass, waiting in a sliver of sunlight. Watching their way, they climbed, and settled, and rested facing the lake.

"You thought you should be frightened and frozen," he said.

"Yes," was her only remark.

They sat in silence, watching the water calm. He gathered up thoughts from an old companion. She searched out meaning from a new one.

At last the sun pushed past the clouds, taming the lake and calming her heart. He rose, and she rose. Their journey together had come to an end. Up ran a joyful, fair-haired young boy, dragging a school bag and glowing with life. As she took the boy's hand, he hugged her as fierce as the waves, relaxing her until they became one.

When the loving reunion was over, she looked for her companion. The young man had vanished with the disappearing gray day.

—me strauss Letting me be