It feels like the distant past, though only a little over a year. The echoes of a Little Bird, propped on my shoulder, singing and chirping happily, asking a question they already knew the answer to.
“Do you loooove me?” chirped a little bird.
The answer was always an unquestioned, enthusiastic yes, and one which I would sing from the mountaintops, into the valleys for all to hear.
“Reeaaallly?”
The echo of the question reverberates throughout my heart, my soul, my being. Though not necessarily attached to the Little Bird, and though the tone has changed (though it remains outstretched), the question remains the same.
“Do you love me?”
The source of the question is easy. No longer a Little Bird, whom has since departed, but myself. Inner being, self, the hopeful, but still unsure voice-within-a-person.
The answer, however, is difficult to give. Often, conscious thought tries to side-step the conversation: deflecting, dodging, and distracting with words, thoughts, and actions, in an attempt to avoid answering.
It’s an important question, and one that deserves an answer if progress is going to be made.
The echoes return periodically.
“Do you love me?”
I think I’m finally ready to to give an answer. So, Self, here it is.
The answer is not an enthusiastic, unquestioning “Yes!” It is not a resounding “No!” filled with bile, anger, and hate.
The answer is a quiet, meek “I’m not sure.”
“But I want to.”