The Unknown Beloved

by Amy Harmon

When Irene had asked him to go, he’d been relieved too. It was exhausting being responsible for someone else’s happiness.

“Your belief is not required for something to be true,” Malone said. His eyes returned to his plate, and he resumed eating.

“Must we try everything to know something is wonderful?” she asked softly. “I don’t think so.”

“The truth is, the harder we are, the easier we shatter. It takes some softness to absorb life’s blows.”

And worst of all, he couldn’t find the fear he’d lost, that healthy fear that warned of pain and loss, that kept a child from touching a stove or climbing too high.

It was just gone, and he teetered above the earth, looking down, knowing he was going to fall, or worse, perish, and he just didn’t . . . care.

“It is the things we most want to put down, the things that are hardest to carry, to endure, that give our lives the most meaning. Sometimes our burdens are taken from us. And sometimes we walk away from them. Sometimes, not having that burden might even feel good. We might feel relief. But it doesn’t take long to realize that the things we call burdens are most often ballast. Our burdens give weight to everything we do. They shed light on all that we are. And the moment we lose them . . . we lose everything.”