The Simplest Thing

The Simplest Thing Recently, I found myself needing someone to talk to. Something was weighing on me, and I felt unsettled and unsure. I thought of calling a dear friend—and immediately hesitated. She’s busy, in demand, and I wondered if she would really have time for me. I didn’t want to interrupt her life or make her feel obligated in any way. Still, I felt a clear longing for woman-to-woman conversation. I knew she would be kind, but also honest. I trusted that letting her “see” what I was dealing with might help me look at it differently. If I’m honest, I also wanted to be seen. I wanted a bit of unconditional validation for who I am and what I carry. Yet I held back, worried my concern was too small, or that it revealed something unflattering about me. I didn’t want to risk her good opinion. Finally, I took a chance and sent a text, asking if she might have time for a quick chat—no pressure at all if she didn’t. When her reply came back— “Of course! Heck yah! I have time at such and such” —I nearly cried. It felt like an answer from somewhere benevolent and unseen. An unexpected kindness. A small grace. Our conversation was simple and deeply relieving. I was able to express hurt and concern in a way I couldn’t with my husband or my daughter. With her, I felt understood and supported. She had been in similar territory and recognized the landscape. There was no judgment and no advice—just presence. What stayed with me afterward was the realization that my fears had been unfounded. Reaching out is not a sign of weakness or poor judgment. It’s a deeply human act. And once I moved through my resistance, it turned out to be the simplest thing in the world. I also realized something else: what I would always offer a dear friend—my time, my attention, my care—can be offered to me in the same spirit. Yet accepting help is often harder than giving it. It asks us to receive, to trust, and to let ourselves matter. A call. A conversation. A hand extended—and taken. The simplest thing.