When I said “I live in silences” to my husband, it was a complaint. Part of a litany of how awful I felt at the time, at home recovering from a stressful period in my work life, with sons and husband wrapped up in their own affairs thus leaving me feeling ignored. Only a few days later, having taken the initiative to fill my silences, I was happy to sit in the garden, alone, silent. Yes, I could hear cars on the street (not that many, we are in a quiet suburb), and our 4 pet hens call calling gently to point out that they are still in their pen and can they come out to scoff the flowers now please, but I had no one to talk to and yet was content.
I had spent most of the day reading, painting, writing and applying for jobs. Silence is restful when it is purposeful, perhaps?
Maybe, like the night, we need to reclaim silence.
I live in silences.
The unease of an empty house
The loneliness of children gone
The sadness of a lover away
The concentration of a painting class
The contemplation of piece of art
Busy baking, waiting for family to return
Tramping on a long country walk
Song birds in the garden
Hens around my feet
Quiet to read the difficult book
Peace to find the space where I am me.
Copyright © 2015 Kim Whysall-Hammond