It will hold, love. We will all hold.
Your friendships will hold. Those friendships that you poured your heart and soul into will hold, those people that you loved and cared for and listened to and had genuine fun with? They will hold. They will wait. They will be here when you return, waiting to welcome you with open arms, excited to see their friend again.
Your family will hold. I know we don't always like them very much, and they don't always do a very good job. But they love you, deep down they truly do, and if we're honest, they've sat through their share of abuse and coldness and unreasonable demands from you. They may not always do a good job. But they love you, and they've proven themselves. They're your blood. They will hold.
This body will hold. I know you hear it creak, hear it complain, hear it scream even under the weight of all that we're putting it through, under the sleepless nights and endless walks and tense muscles and clenched-back tears. But you've taken care of this body too, even if you don't feel like it. You've looked after it, you've fed it and cared for it and exercised it to the best of your ability, love, the absolute best of your ability, and you know it. This body is young. This body is strong. This body has good genes. This body will hold, even if it doesn't feel like it. We will come back, and we will care for this body, and it will hold.
Your books will hold. Of course they will. It's why we love them so much. They're everlasting portals to everlasting worlds. Don't be afraid you'll forget how to read, or how to feel- you've given your whole life to books, and books don't forget. It's the whole point of them. It's in your blood now, in your veins, intertwined into who you are. When the time comes, when it feels right, you'll pick up a book again, and slip into it, easy as breathing, like a second skin. They will be there. If they could love, they'd love you back. Your books will hold.
Your poetry will hold. It's the creation of your hands, baby, the child of your mind. It came from you. This is something real, something meaningful that we've been working on for a while, and because we're good poets it's true to the essence of us. It's something that we're reflecting on, and it may not be how we see things now, but it will always have been something true of us. Poetry's a part of you too, regardless of what anyone might say. Look how you're writing now. The triptych will hold, love. Your poetry will hold.
Your God will hold. It's kind of His thing- the infinite patience and infinite love. He will be watching over you gently, waiting for you to return to the flock, however difficult that may be, however long it may take for you to figure things out. He's been waiting years, love- I believe, I have faith, that he won't abandon you after a few months. He will hold. In his infinite faithfulness. He will be faithful where we have been faithless.
The places you love will hold. I know it doesn't feel like it sometimes. They feel fragile, breakable, especially the sort of quiet little place you like here in this country. It feels like you have to protect them, and if you fail, they die. It feels like they get painted over with memory all too easily. But we have learned to love them despite. We've learned how to stack memories- how to paint over and how to hold side by side. We've learned how to cherish while they stand, and how to put them in amber and let them go, with eulogies and saltwater and love, still, when they fall. If they could love, too, love, they'd love us. We've learned how to love them. They will hold. While they stand, they will hold. And there will always be places to love.
This life you've built for yourself is a good life, my love. It's a quiet life, but it's a strong one. It's full of depth, and truth, and sincerity. It's full of real love. It's built to last, if we do say so ourselves. This life you've built is stable, and solid, and full of the things you find beautiful and good and worthy. Full of the things you love, and full of things and people who love you. This life will hold. This life will wait. This life will be here, as you left it, when you return. Don't be afraid, love, this life will hold.
So get out there, my love, my liege, master of the house. You get out there, and you take care of business, and then you'll come back to us. We'll be here. We will hold.
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