Like gum stuck to the bottom of a shoe that provokingly tugs lightly at each step. Like a bandaid on a crusty wound invoking shrieks from each individual hair upon abrupt removal. Like dog hair to a lint roller absorbing billions of allergens. Like a controlling personality smothering another’s ambitions. Like wet hair plastered to a furrowed brow in a spring downpour. Like a dog digging up its buried rotting treasure.
Like a toddler gripping their solace: a tattered bit of blanket that had wrapped them as an infant. Like a dryer sheet staticly stuck to a freshly tumbled cotton pant leg. Like a human chain formed between explorers crawling through a pitch black cave.
Like a bewildered sinner hanging on each whispered word from their Savior. Like a hopeful lover rereading every written phrase from their distant significant other. Like a married couple who realize they only have each other when life throws them curveballs. Like a wrinkled husband completely depending on his equally wrinkled wife of 61 years.
“I will never leave you nor forsake you.” Heb13.5
“Two are better than one because they have a good return for their labor. For if either of them falls, the one will lift up his companion. But woe to the one who falls when there is not another to lift him up. Furthermore, if two lie down together they keep warm, but how can one be warm alone? And if one can overpower him who is alone, two can resist him. A cord of three strands is not quickly torn apart.” Eccl4.9-12
Clinging is a love/hate phenomenon—driven by a core need for camaraderie.