I wish that I could remember to do this more often. Sunday Scribblings #366: Resistant

I pushed against it.  Once.  And then again.  Violent and arbitrary, reckless in my contrariness; expecting only resistance.  Unprepared for the yield, I tore through, leaving unintended damage and jagged, fragile ends.  You pushed back, but only to restore equilibrium.  A benefit, you said, of years of accumulated goodwill.  A gift, a promise, and not unexpectedly, a warning.