I Have Time

“That’s a lovely ring.”

“Thank you, there’s actually quite a lot of meaning behind it, but that’s another story for another time.” 

I said it without thought, without intention, the way we all offer throwaway lines to protect the things that actually matter.

“I’m fine, how are you?”
Another shield. Another shortcut. Easier than touching the truth.

Because the story behind the ring did matter. It mattered only to me, quietly, privately. A sentiment with no lesson, no revelation, nothing profound to offer anyone else. Just a piece of my life that existed because it existed. And so I gave the polite dismissal. 

Another story for another time.

The moment should have ended there. It was 5pm on a Friday after all. 
But instead, he shifted his chair a little closer. Not enough to intrude, just enough to be unmistakable and said:

“I have time.”

And in the silence of that moment. In the stillness of those small and suspended syllables, there was no angle. No exchange. No quiet expectation of something owed. He simply made time. For nothing more than to sit with the truth of another human being. 

That was the part that caught my breath.
Moments like that. Moments where your words are enough, just as they are. Moments like that don’t happen.

Not in the world we live in today.
And yet it did. And within that moment, I was given another story. 

One for another time.