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Intersection of Love

I spent an entire life at the intersection of love. I watched all of the cars go by. I was just a tiny girl when I first came to this road but now I’ve made my home here – wide eyed and watching passerbys move past.  

I tried to understand the way the system worked. Who engineered the lights that made you stop? Who paved the streets? Was this the only way we could go on? Whose fault was the crash?

I lived at the intersection of love and wondered what put all of these in people in motion. Who gave them the fuel? What happened to the people who avoided this route altogether? Where were the detours? Why were there no lanes for those on the sidewalk – those who got in our way and slowed us down?

I wanted to close the highway – stop all of the traffic in all of the lanes. But I looked up and saw the planes, looked over and saw the trains, and even a man on a white horse. Nothing could stop it. I must yield.

Who had the fanciest car? Was that what you needed or was the thing passed down in your family good enough? Who helped the old ladies cross the street? Can you make a U-turn or is that illegal on this street? Paralyzed with hope and fear,  I stood at the intersection of love and waited for lust, fear, hope, loss, anger, and grief to pass. They all crossed, dissolving halfway through and reincarnating but I could never see far enough to tell.

The arch de triumph of this highway arrived in an underwhelming procession. It was rarely called upon but bore all of its strength in the power of everyone who passed by. Unsuspecting citizens who let go and gained everything they needed to cross the treacherous path which would never return you the same. It did not swing low but arrived when we had risen to the occasion.

I was much older now but Forgiveness still came. Forgiveness cleaned up all of the accidents. It served as roadside assistance, triage, and trauma. It fixed the potholes, paved a new surface, sent school children on their way, and gave us the power to start again.

With a final deep breath, I asked if we all had to cross? “You never do but if you aren’t going to, why are you here?”

Forgiveness in my hand, I crossed. I crossed and survived and there I stood, on the other side of fear, ready to love again.

Published by Kristian Gist

Kristian is the founder of Unfiltrd and mother to the best little boy around. She's currently teaching herself sign language and probably off reading a good book somewhere and thinking about pizza. You can find her on Instagram @kristianologist.

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