Her legs swung off the end of the wharf, goosebumps speckled all over her body from the cold. I was still in the lake, bobbing around in the dark water, but didn't want to surface from the deep conversation we'd dug ourselves into for the past hour just yet. We talked about things I'd only ever thought about inside my head, never thinking I'd ever be given the opportunity to voice them- let alone with someone hosting a different last name. It's a fine line to walk upon- that line between keeping things sacred and to one's self, and in sharing them and thus potentially increasing their importance and, in turn, their sacredness.
But the key word here is 'potentially', for voicing some things with the intention to increase their importance and their sacredness, can sometimes crush those precious porcelain thoughts into a million shattered pieces, cutting all who step on them- giver and receiver alike. But that day the latter was far from the truth- she instead took every word leaving my heart and mind as it entered the world as intelligible sounds, and held them warm and carefully and close, irrespective of how freezing her hands really were at the time.
It's a wonderful thing to have friends who can do that, who can keep safe your most precious porcelain heart-pieces, warming them with hands even when freezing, and help them take on their new life as articulated out-loud thoughts in the real world. The inevitable byproduct: an increase of importance and sacredness of something that once only lived inside.