Sometimes I forget to listen. I forget to let a friend be. To tell their whole story and paint their full heart into the air. I’m too eager to respond with a fix, a solution, a plan. I interrupt the art. I look for a pause to jump in and offer all sorts of articulate banter, when this isn’t what they want. They just want to speak until they’re out of breath, and then meet eyes and feel like they’re okay and understood and not alone. It’s a beautiful thing, and I want to let it happen. I want to let them finish painting in their own words. And then maybe I will understand.