Learning the Way

I didn’t know the way. I chose wrong so many times. Every false path bruised my feet and scratched long, deep streaks across my chest. I looked for signs and signals, but despite their purpose, they didn’t know the way either. You kept a light on the entire time. I saw it, but I didn’t know what it was for. I chose the simple routes, clean, clear, and flat, hoping the easiest road would get me there. It did not. I reversed, and your light was still on. It was dimmer, but I could still see it. With my new bruises and scratches and memories of dead ends, I now understood why you never told me what the light was for. I followed it, and now I’m home.