I notice that your face is cloudy when you come off the bus. You snap at your little brother when he runs up to you to play. You go to your room. The door slams. I knock. You don’t answer. I pause and knock again. Not the “you need to open the door now” knock. A slow knock. Two knocks. Nothing more. Then I sit by the door and I wait.
A few minutes later the door opens. You sit down next to me. “Rough day?” I ask.
The floodgates open.
“I’m there for you” means just that.
When you are ready.