Eli
I couldn’t do it.
My breath catches and falls and I admire him for his honesty.
Me
But you gave it a shot and that’s more than most people would do.
The typing bubbles pulse on my screen but stop again, and I receive nothing.
Me
You can talk to me. I know you might not think it, but I’m a friend, Eli, and if you don’t want to talk to anyone else about what happened today, you can talk to me.
This prompts him to respond, or send what he had already started to type because it comes through immediately.
Eli
I went up but couldn’t jump. I still failed.
Me
You didn’t fail. You did your best, and that’s all that matters.
Eli
I was terrified.
Oh, Eli. That’s such a vulnerable thing to admit. I slump onto my sofa, and Ghost takes that as my go-ahead to climb into my lap, his metal collar jingling as he settles in comfortably, curling himself into a ball.
Me
You’re being too hard on yourself. What you did today is something I could never do. And newsflash, Eli, I’m terrified every time I get up on stage to speak. The first speaking gig I did, I canceled and had to go to hypnotherapy to help me overcome my fear, and my mouth still goes dry, even to this day.
Eli
You said I should try something new this week and to push myself to do something I’ve never done before. Then you suggested skydiving.
Me
Now I feel terrible. I’m sorry for suggesting that. I was kidding, and what I should have said was try a matcha latte again, or experiment with a new app or hobby you’ve been avoiding learning, or ask for help with something. You took my words literally and made a huge leap to thrill-seeking level 1001! You’re crazy, not a failure.
Eli
You think?
Me
Yes! I’m so proud of you.
Eli
You can’t be proud of failure.
Me
Of course I can. You failed, and that means you dared to try. Failure shows you pushed yourself today and that’s progress, not perfection. I hope you wear that effort badge with pride. I’ll be looking for it the next time I see you.