Once Erica got going she spoke like a crusader that finally caught up with a patient listener, someone who understood her, who didn't disagree. And, how could I disagree? She was right on every point. The most despicable act of irresponsibility that I have ever recognized is humanity's own lack of taking responsibility for its continued existence in the face of the most terrible attacks against it, such as the threat of a nuclear war, economic disintegration, and those calls for depopulation. I told Erica that I totally agreed with her. "It's ironic that nobody gives a damn while humanity is facing what may be the greatest crisis in its history, even as all these threats are coming together," I said to her.

      "You mean things can still get worse?" she answered perplexed.

      I nodded my head. "Everything that our existence depends on is falling apart. It doesn't take a genius to figure out what the end result will be."

      I told her that I was quite aware of the need for living responsibly. "I just hadn't seen it in the social context," I added. "Someone like you had to draw these realms together for me."

      I paused and smiled at her, for what seemed like a long time, searching for how I might continue this train of thought. "I mean to tell you that I agree with you totally," I said in a serious tone of voice. "Fritz will not be hurt by us. However, does this not conflict with the still greater responsibility that we all have for being honest with ourselves? This kind of responsibility imposes no limits, but imposes the demand to overcome all limits. Therefore, there should be no limits between us. Do you agree?"

      She blushed in response, searched for words. "This takes time," she said quietly. "What you suggest is correct, but it also makes a very strong demand on Fritz that he grow up. Of course, this is ultimately his responsibility. Still, my task is to help him. Taking responsibility means that we find a way by which we will all end up richer. Fritz is not a rich man when it comes to love. If he saw us together as we are now he would explode with anger. I am like a trophy to him that he owns, a specimen of his private zoo. He proudly shows me off to his friends, as though he was saying, see what I bagged in the hunt! He treats himself like a trophy, too. His status is a trophy to him. He brags to people about where he was able to go on vacation with his higher salary, and mine added to it, to places that most people can only dream about. That's not love, Peter. It deepens the separation. I wish I could get him to understand that. I almost hate vacations because of that. But you are not like that. You must have been all over the world and done many great things, but you said nothing. You probably have a beautiful house and a beautiful wife, and a job that many would envy, but you said not a word, one word that would make me feel small. That's love, Peter. At least I think that's what love is."

      I blushed, but deep inside I had to agree with her. I felt proud of myself that I could agree with her on that. I also was ashamed of myself that I wasn't more nicely dressed. Being touched by her love had made me more proud of myself. This had raised the standard. I was ashamed to meet her so shabbily dressed. I should have worn a spiffier shirt, rather than the raggedy dress-shirt that I wore, which had a stained color. The stain hadn't bothered me before. Now it did. It wasn't that I would have loved to impress her. It was more that I wanted to honor her for the pride she had inspired in me for taking time out of her life to talk to me. She had made me more proud of myself, which had set a new standard for me against which I would judge myself from this time on, and I couldn't live up to that new standard. I wanted to honor her properly for her love, but couldn't in my ragged beach-clothes. I had to find another way.

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Stories about  Healing from novels by Rolf A. F. Witzsche