I took this weekend to break from writing and get a few errands done with the holidays coming soon. On Monday night I sat down not sure of which direction I wanted to head next with this post. So I began free writing and getting everything off my mind.
This photograph. I kept thinking about it and seeing it. This building. This road. This path. And I thought about you. That moment with you.
I wished at the moment I had more words of wisdom for you, but I knew it wasn’t the right time. Regardless of what I would have said, you wouldn’t have heard me. You weren’t ready to listen quite yet. You weren’t at the listening stage, and I respected your position. In that moment you needed to talk. You needed to lay everything out there to keep looking for answers. Answers you thought would easily be found everywhere. Every corner. Every turn. Every action. You kept looking with no progress being made. And I could see the answers right before you. Standing right before you. It was quiet.
The quiet was what you needed and what I believe had your answers. And if I had spoken, I knew immediately what I would have said. I don’t know if you would have believed me, but I would have admitted loneliness was one of those fears I had at some point in my life. It was also one of those reasons why I had always been afraid of the quiet. We all experience times in our lives where we may be afraid to make a change. Afraid of what the future may hold or the people we may lose or the way life may change. Just afraid.
It had been a few months since I had been completely honest about what I wanted with life. I knew once I spoke those words from my mouth that everything would change. I didn’t know how much or to what degree, but I knew change would come. And with those changes I knew I was going to face it. Loneliness and I were going to meet, but as to how the meeting would occur had yet to be determined.
It was an ordinary weeknight. I came home from work, went for a walk, and came inside to fix supper. My night continued on like any other night, and I pulled out a new book to dive into. It was quiet. And in that moment I closed my eyes and easily knew she was near.
When I saw loneliness creep in that night, I smiled. I smiled because I had been running from this moment for so long and it finally caught me. I had run out of breath and couldn’t move anymore. There she and I were. We were face-to-face about to battle out our concerns and the choices I have made, and I laughed. I couldn’t take her seriously anymore because I knew she wasn’t my final place. She wasn’t the end to all. She was rather a learning milestone to let me know I would never truly be lonely, and she wasn’t something I needed to fear anymore.
Sometimes life takes you to the smallest point to see your fears. That point to stare your fears in the face and realize they do not control you. Sometimes you do not even control you. Let go of the fight for control and trust your instincts. If you are asked to wait, you wait. If you are asked to have faith, have faith and let your faith grow and move mountains. And if you are asked to listen, close your eyes and silence the noise and just listen. Listen hard because sometimes the answer is given in the quiet.
When I thought about what I wanted to write this week, I saw this photograph. Not the color version of it either with the blue sky and the cane field in the background and the gravel beside the road. But rather the black and white version, which looks as though every object is still. The version that reminds me of quiet. And I thought about you.