10,000 Miles is a Long Way to Whisper

10,000 Miles is a Long Way to Whisper

I padded barefoot from my counselor's small kitchen with a fresh glass of wine. My counselor was crouched, adding a piece of wood to the fire, the glow of the flames turning him golden. I sat down beside him and he sat down, too. I stared into the flames.

"Do you ever feel misunderstood?" I asked. He looked at me and laughed, his rusty unused laugh. I looked at him.
"Of course," he said, straightening up his face in a serious frame. That is when I realized what I had said and to whom I had said it. "But go on with your thought sweetheart."
"I don't know. Sometimes things just seem so simple and then the world collapses and it is like you are whispering in a whirlwind. From ten thousand miles away. And it is like everyone is speaking a million different languages at once and no one is listening. No one," I said. He reached out and stroked my hair.
"With whom did you argue?" he asked, his voice was soft.
"It's just a thought in general," I said.
"Um....you are being obtuse...but I will accept what you say," he said.
"You sound like the lead counselor," I said.
"Well, he and I have a lot in common," he said. That sent me to laughing. He waited until I calmed.
"Sorry," I said.
"No, I suppose you would not see our complicated relationship. W really do depend on one another in a million little ways, little insignificant things that add up to a final big picture. A lucrative picture," he said.
"But you don't trust each other," I said.
"Well, we do, on the important things. You, your friends, your adventures," he said. "We have only wanted your happiness. That is why we have our meetings, our one on sessions, our little adventures."
"So you collaborate?" I said, a little doubtful.
"We do, we depend on one another. There are times we don't like each other very much....but we do depend on each other," he said, poking at the fire with the old cast iron toaster. "And of course we have others we answer to, and we have to depend on them too."

"Do you take it personally?" I asked.
"Everything a person does should begin by being personal. It effects everyone differently, sometimes in unseen ways," he said, pulling me against him as he lay back against the couch. "But it can still work out, if everyone stops to listen."
"10,000 miles away is a long way to whisper," I said.
"But eventually the sound travels and the people it is meant for receive it sweetheart," he said.

We watched the fire burn for a long time.