the tall people

Since the eighth grade, he had been on the shorter side of average. At five and a half feet, he was taller than some, but shorter than most of his male peers. As he grew older, he found that he was shorter than a growing number of women too. He had married a woman who was two inches taller than him. The moon’s sister was taller than him as well. Being mature and wise and very conscious of the immutable reality of his situation, he had never allowed himself to acknowledge just how much he wished he was taller, until one day the moon’s sister had pointed out to him that he was too short to be a good match for her romantically. It was a devastating blow. He had rallied his maturity and dignity against this simple, unavoidable fact all his life. But now it was out in the open—he was too short.

At some nearly conscious level, his shortness had always bothered him. He had known tall people who seemed to find their own sense of superiority in telling stories in which their tallness proved them better in one way or another than some hapless soul who, of course, was much shorter than them. These tall people seemed pathetic, and yet their stories secretly infuriated him, not just because they were so petty, but because in some dark corner of his heart, he believed them.

But when he met this woman, this earthy friend of horses, something changed. He was no longer short. He was perfect. He was taller than her by nearly six inches, and she never tired of marveling at what a “nice fit” he was for her. As weeks passed, he began to relax into the fit. He began to see himself differently. One day, he walked into a gas station to put money down to activate a pump. Standing in line in front of him was a man who was so tall that he nearly had to duck through the door of the gas station. As he stood beside the giant, he suddenly realized that he was not intimidated by his tallness. Standing next to this big guy, he felt entirely at ease. Tall was simply a novelty. As he became aware of this, he realized how very different it was from the way he had always felt before. Always, he had felt a twinge of inadequacy in the presence of tall people. He had never admitted it to himself, but it was true nonetheless. He had always imposed his standard of maturity on this irrational intimidation, shoving it back into some dark corner where it could not embarrass or harm. It was so unchangeable and childish. What good could come from dwelling on it? But now, the intimidation was gone. He was all right. This man’s tallness was not daunting at all.

As quickly as he recognized the shift in his perception toward his own height and the height of others, he also recognized the remarkable work that she had done in healing his heart of this thing. He was a good size—perfect for her—perfect for himself. For the first time in his life, he felt as though he was the right size. It was a revelation. It broke through distortions he had believed throughout his entire life. He was surprised at what a lightness this brought to him. Little had he understood the perverse weight of his unspoken obsession with height. It seemed silly to him now. Where had it come from? What had fed it? Why had he never seen through it before?