The Gully and the Bridge

After arriving home from work today, my husband had an interesting analogy for me. He is currently back at school, trying to find a new career, and is (needless to say) a little nervous and apprehensive as to how things are going to work out.

He's not what you would call a risk-taker ...

"Pretend that this is a map, a very old map," he began, holding up one of his horror movie magazines for me to look at. "The winding road starts here, way down at this corner, and eventually progresses across the page ... Until it gets to the middle. Right here."

My gaze followed his finger to a picture of a creepy-looking guy holding a shotgun.

"Right here, is where there's a gully. It's big and wide and there is supposed to be a bridge that crosses it ..."

"But it's an old map," I interrupted. "And it might not be there?"

"Exactly. Who knows if it's still there? I could have driven all this way. Gone through all of these different obstacles to get there and ... Nothing. I'm stuck with no way to get across."

"Or, even worse," I replied with a smirk, egging him on, "it's still there, but it's old and rickety ..."

"Yeah," he nodded. "And then when the car is about halfway across, the bridge will fall and I'll die."

He's quite the optimist, as you can see ... I don't doubt that he's got a huge gully in front of him. Heck, I stood at the edge of a similar gully about a year ago. All I can say is that, hopefully, the bridge is still there (and it's strong enough to carry him across).