Standing at the Gate

All my relationships start this way…I am standing at the gate. Next to me is a beautiful bench and before me is a path. People come and go in front of me, walking down the pathway, sometimes alone, sometimes with a friend. When I see someone I know I call out and wave and they wave back, not slowing down but moving onward to their gate. Yet sometimes a connection is made. We stand in the road sharing who we are, revealing little bits of ourselves that can either shut it down or open it up. Many times that is all that is shared and they become people I wave to, connections but not connected.
A few times there is more, vulnerability and openness. We sit on the bench and enjoy the sense of discovery. Sometimes we will meet over days, weeks, even years and each time the curtain is drawn back a little bit more. Until before I know it we are linked arm and arm and I am walking them to a place very few see. It is fragile and delicate yet I love nothing more than to share what is dear to me. The stream of water that flows out of the fountain and reflects off of rocks I handpicked because of their color. The purple pansies that form a soft carpet we can lie on and dream. As well as the bird feeder that beckons to robins and blue jays to come closer so we can admire their unique colors and beautiful sounds. This inner garden is me and all I value, all I hold dear. It is me at my most vulnerable, it is the me I hide from most people that I share with this friend.
The best of friends are those who come in gently and admire and celebrate. They may help me weed or paint and somehow they always seem to leave it just a little bit better. Time flies by when we are together and when they leave I look forward to the next visit. Some who come in are not this careful, they have come in and tipped over the fountain, pulled up the flowers and have thrown rocks at the birds. Instead of enjoying the garden they seem to take pleasure in destroying it, leaving me with trying to fix and repair, to clean up and start over. Sometimes I can make it almost as good as new but the truth is the fountain has cracks that I have attempted to patch but it never looked the same, its scar is now part of me.
Then I am left with a choice. The next time this friend comes to the gate do I open it and welcome them in? I have done that before and many times nothing has changed. I find myself tense and when they begin to wreck havoc I am as mad at myself as I am at them. Or do I communicate my expectations and the consequences they put into motion because of their actions? In truth this is a gift I give them, clear boundaries that let them know I can’t open the gate until there is trust and that is something only they can fix. It is a gift because then they can decide. They can decide either to change their choices and put effort into rebuilding our friendship or continue down the pathway of life without me.