The Other Handle

You're dragging something heavy. You've been dragging it for a long time. Nobody asked you to. At some point it was simply yours.

When people ask how you are, you say: fine. All good. And when someone says, call me if you need anything, you nod. You're never going to call.

So you pull. Through the move. Through the bad year. Through the nights. You help everyone else with theirs, and then you come back and pull your own. And you never mention it, because everyone has their own.

You're actually proud of it. Look how far you got, all by yourself. It's a very long scratch on the floor. Nobody sees it but you.

And then, one day, it won't move anymore. You don't even know what's wrong. You're just so tired. You're not weak. You've been doing a two-person job alone, and calling it strength.

So walk around it once. You've only ever seen it from your side. From the side where you pull.

There's a second handle. It's been there since the first day. Asking doesn't make you smaller. It tells someone: I trust you with this. Think of how you feel when someone asks you. You're not annoyed. You're glad they thought of you.

Not everyone will take it. Some are busy with their own. Ask anyway. You only need one. And it doesn't have to be the whole crate. One sentence is enough to start. Who could you ask today?