— Hello. I knew you would be here.

 

— Yes. I’m afraid of missing the footsteps…

 

— Afraid?

 

— Yes. You know, it feels like the fear of being late, even though I know for certain that I won’t be. I know it will happen. I just don’t know when. Or whether he will have enough strength to turn around and make it back.

 

— Are you sure you’re not mistaken? If we’re honest, he’s there because you were hard on him. Perhaps you should have supported him more.

 

— You know we do not make mistakes. We are always there. We illuminate the path, but we do not choose. I was not hard on him. I placed a mirror before him, one he could not turn away from. Everyone sees something different in it. And everyone draws their own conclusions.

 

— But you could have shown him a better way. Made it shine brighter.

 

— Yes. But I remember that there are people for whom the brighter path becomes visible only after understanding. And it all depends on how far a person has gone. Sometimes you need to feel the bottom beneath your feet before you can push away from it.

 

— You’re right. Or look into the abyss from the doorway of an airplane. To see and accept everything you carry behind you. To place your foot on the threshold—and push off with all your strength.

 

You burst into the raging current of inevitable falling. You rush toward death, gripping the ring.

 

First, the pilot chute line jerks you. It opens, but it does not stop the fall. Like realization, it gives you only a moment of stability.

 

And only then do you pull the main ripcord with all your strength, releasing the lock of the main canopy—and once again you plunge into the abyss, only to be stopped by a powerful jolt in the silence of the sky.

 

You sway gently in the harness and look down at everything below. Once again it seems distant, as though nothing has changed. Yet with every second you understand: the return is inevitable.

 

It will be harsh. Like a father’s firm slap on the back of your head when you come home at dawn after a carefree night of wandering.

 

The ground will hit you hard.

 

But it will be the return that matters.

 

— Yes… I know that feeling too: the fear of danger and the longing to return. Nothing has ever felt stronger than the mixture of those two emotions. That is why I know: the step is yours alone. You take it yourself. You fall yourself. You understand yourself. And only afterward do you sit in wonder and watch the clouds drift by.

 

— Are you sure you’re waiting for him and not for yourself?

After all, this is your first service. And already—departure.

 

— Departure is part of life. Some choose it, some do not. It is an ordinary thing.

From the outside it may seem as though I pushed him toward the edge. Sometimes I think so myself. But it was his decision. His step.

 

There is no point holding on to someone and persuading them after they have walked through the mud.

He has seen all the cynicism and all the injustice of the world. He stained himself with sin and blood. He understood what was happening to him.

 

But instead of looking into the mirror and searching for a path, he turned away…

and walked into the darkness.

 

— Yes, that’s true. I’m glad you weren’t afraid…

Hm. Though we do not fear.

 

I’m glad you’re with us. It is an important example for other Guardians. Sometimes we spend too long persuading those who have already decided. They agree only so they will be left alone.

 

I’m glad you chose to let go and allow him to walk the dark path himself.

 

You have other responsibilities. Those who need your presence, your support, your guidance, and your warmth.

 

— Thank you…

I wanted to say more. But I still don’t know what.

 

— Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!

 

— Wait. Quiet…

Footsteps… do you hear them?

 

…

 

— No, my friend. You imagined it.

 

— Yes…

Not yet…