I thought first of myself today. I was the student whom I made stand atop the desk, his hesitation and misgivings and apprehensions akin to my climb up your slope, the curve of our conversation. His slow, tentative turn atop the table my daily effort to eviscerate doubt. He took a slow tilt into a stiff fall, and I thought of you: the crisscrossed collection of hands and forearms offering safe landing, awaiting trust.
