“I can’t sit here,” I say. Wendell asks why, and I tell him I don’t know. “Not knowing is a good place to start,” he says, and this feels like a revelation. I spend so much time trying to figure things out, chasing the answer, but it’s okay to not know. We’re both quiet for a while, then I get up and move farther away, about midway between positions A and B. I can breathe again. I think of a Flannery O’Connor quote: “The truth does not change according to our ability to stomach it.” What am I protecting myself from? What do I not want Wendell to see?
