She stood on the far bank of the stream and watched a young boy run down the hill. He stopped at the edge of the stream and waved before moving toward the plank that bridged the water. She called out, “Stop! Don’t try to cross,” and motioned with her hand. The noise of the rushing water drowned out the low volume of her voice. This was not a good time to have laryngitis.
The boy smiled and placed one foot on the plank. His eyes were focused on her as he carefully moved forward one step at a time. When he reached the middle of the plank, he looked down. And froze. He looked at the bank behind him. He looked at the fast-flowing water below him. He looked at her. He could not move. The plank wobbled beneath his feet.
She beckoned him with her hands. She whispered, “Come on. You can do it.”
He didn’t move.
Ignoring the pain in her throat, she called out in a raspy voice. “Come to me. You’ve gone too far to go back.”
He hesitated. Nodded. And moved one hesitant step forward. And then another.
She breathed a sigh of relief and continued beckoning.
He kept coming. One step at a time. When his feet touched the ground, he plunged forward into her arms.
How many times have I made a decision and then second-guessed myself, saying, “Why did I think I could do this?” That is when I need to tell myself, “You’ve gone too far to turn back. Begin as you mean to go on.”
When the unfamiliar panics me, I look to others for support. I identify my next step. One step at a time.
I can do this.
Hello. remarkable job. . This is a excellent story. Thanks!