“It doesn’t matter if anyone else understands. You do, and that’s all that matters to me.”
The words stir my mind; a mind transfixed on silence. Only the refrigerator’s hum fills the still as I’m thinking…
What would it be like if I were alone, every evening, in an endless string of solitudes?
Silence, the womb of communion.
Would others think me crazy if they knew I encountered communion in the silence?
Then the words come, as if a rush of wind stirring leaves in an abandoned well, an answer to my unspoken prayers:
“It doesn’t matter if anyone else understands.
You do, and that’s all that matters to me.”
Silence, delightful and yet terrifying. Not enough of it and I knit my brow in consternation, growing cross at slow-moving cars dominating fast lanes. READ THE ENTIRE POST…
