Silence, he told me, is an everlasting truth. Soulful. Inevitable. Don’t push it away.
I listened, silently.
The quiet is the sparkling silver, he emphasized. It is the sun bouncing off of those rapids which drown every other sound in their waking. Do you understand?
Do I understand? All I heard were words. And silence.
It’s not the shimmering gold. It isn’t the glitter wanting to be noticed, clawing at your eyes. It is the absence of the need to be heard. It is the nightlight which glows when the crickets croak. Honey, he says, do you understand?
Nod. I don’t understand. He makes it so comfortable, like it is so normal, the silence, like it is a part of us. Is it?
Good, he says, and smiles.
The silence prevails.