A beam, a girder, something that holds something else up. It’s underneath, hidden, not always noticed, but beautiful in its own right.
Without it, the whole structure would fall—a pile of random pieces with nothing to hold it together.
But support is also: an assistant, a protector, a rescuer. The inglorious feet of the body, making it all work.
Support is what holds us all. In the last few months, my family has been through quite a bit, and I don’t know what we would have done without the support of our friends and family.
To those who helped, who prayed, thank you.
This short story is in response to the Five Minute Friday prompt: Support. The rules are: write for 5 minutes and no editing (although I can’t stop myself a little. I am an editor after all). If you’re interested in finding out more about this community, head over to Five Minute Friday.