Speak

He called tonight.
I shut the door without seeing him to the car as I do every other night, and because of that he called. He makes me speak.  No, he asks me to speak.  My nature, my past, has taught me, rather groomed me, not to speak.  Upon my own accord, or lack of, I never gave voice to my feelings, nor my independence. My past encouraged silence: to shut a door.  He acknoldges that and gives room for that.  Frustrated, he left, with the door closed abruptly behind him. He thought about it, attempted to put himself in my shoes, and called.  He talked.  I talked.  He loves me.  I love him. 
I have never before felt able or welcomed to talk. 'Tough or uncomfortable situations are made for fixing, not talking about.'  I have always stifled feelings to accommodate others, or to fix others.
It is crazy, but true: I have someone in my life that is by my side, all the while pushing me forward and letting me grow.