I looked up and down the river and saw no bridge for crossing. The waters looked deep and frigid, the current swift. I knew that if I even dared to jump in, there was no way I would make it alive to the other side.
Then I looked behind me, beside me. There sat everything that I am. It was all comfortable. It was enough. My home was more than a shack, my belly was full, my family happy.
My wife came up to me and asked, “Who is that man? He looks quite familiar.”
“I don’t know.” So I called out to him and asked.
“I am everything you could have been!” he returned.
“But how do I get there now?” I asked, the answer obvious.
“All you have to do is cross the river.”
“I would love to, but it’s hard.”
“If it were easy, you would already be here,” he said back.
“I could, but the water is deep and cold, the current swift.”
“If you give it everything you have, I know you will make it! I promise you won’t regret it even for a moment.”
I turned to my wife. “I should have done this long ago. Is it too late?”
“Not only should you, it’s necessary. That man across the river looked familiar because part of him reminded me of you, from when we were younger. And I know that life has made us older, but it’s necessary for you to have that part of you again. Go, and make a way for us to follow.”
So I jumped in and swam with all my strength. And I could hear my wife calling over the waves, “You had it in you all along!”