I want to climb inside your quiet. It threw me off, that's certain, the quiet in even your hands and your ease in the silent moments that drift in and out of our conversation. The quiet of your attention even, one thing at a time, it makes me aware of the buzzing in my brain and the worry, so much worry in me, some fear and some conspiracy, some hesitancy and some dismay. The quiet way you drink your coffee, sitting down. Facing forward. You do not fly around your apartment, throwing lunch together, or trying to find a matching pair of socks, coffee mug following you around from room to room and getting cold. And the way your quiet gently quiets me, sshhh, it lands like a sweet spring wind kissing softly the trees on the way home.
[Picture by Kimberley Hasselbrink].