Silence gets such a bad rap. Too often, silence is considered awkward, uncomfortable, unbearable and there's always something assumed to be missing. But some of my most memorable moments are soundless and full. Let's talk about those.
Silence sounds like peace. Like contentment. Like gentle waves and the way the sunlight draws a line through the room. You know that quiet after sharing five straight minutes of boisterous laughter or song with a friend? It's amazing. Your body begs for a break but your mind's still stuck in that high. And you smile because you think -- how wonderful it is to laugh, to have someone to laugh with, and something to laugh about.
Silence can sound like trust. You've screamed, cried and tried to make him understand why you feel the way you feel. Caught off guard, he listens and in that silence, he takes his time to process it all. And he thinks about how to respond with care. He does it well.
Silence is a browned leaf slowly falling from a tall tree, without rush. It's watching your puppy breathe, her chest rising and falling in perfect rhythm. It's a stretch of the neck after a long day. And enjoying the aftertaste of your first cup of coffee in the morning. Silence is a moment of quiet, necessary reflection with loud impact.
The last time I heard silence? Just a moment ago, as I looked up at the sky to snap a photo of the cotton-candy skies.
The #100daychallenge writing series is my way of holding my right brain accountable for all the brain fog in hopes that I'll learn to creatively organize my thoughts and learn something(s) new about myself in the process. The challenge includes prompts from the San Francisco Writers' Grotto's 642 Things to Write About. You can also follow my #100daychallenge here.