Sometimes, a bar is just a bar. Sometimes, a lift is just a lift. Sometimes, the clanging metal or dull thumping of bumpers and the billowing chalk cloud are symbolic of nothing. Sometimes, the best thing you can do is let it go.
It was a lift. You tried to lift something. And you failed.
It means nothing about your life, your heart, your soul, your time here on Earth. One failed lift won’t make you a bad person, a worse parent, a horrible daughter, an inadequate brother. It won’t even make the cashier at the market put your eggs on the bottom of the bag.
It was just a weight that gravity pulled to Earth early, before you wanted it there.
You’ll pick yourself up, walk away, and search your mind and your memory for what went wrong. Maybe you’ll find a clue. Maybe you won’t. And then you’ll come back and try to move that weight again.