This is the 18th of 50 posts celebrating my 50th birthday. You can see the rest here.
I'm not going to tell you where I am. You need only know that it's quiet. All I can hear is the lapping of water, the occasional rebuke from a red squirrel, the whisper of the trees, and the click of the keyboard. It is wonderful.
When I was a child I loved quiet. My family and I went on extended camping trips and I remember the quiet of the nights, the only sounds the murmer of might creatures, and the pop and hiss of the fire. This love has followed me into adulthood but what I understand now is that there are many different kinds of quiet.
There is the quiet of a much needed break, the kind of quiet I am experiencing now. It is restorative and often, not silent at all.
There is the quiet of anticipation, the hush before the next thing begins. The quiet of disappointment and heartache, so thick it feels like it might smother you. The quiet of loss, of the beloved voice gone; no matter how loud the world that corner will never again be heard.
So many kinds of quiet and so few are silent.
Right now, in this moment, this quiet is what I need.
This is what 50 looks like. Quiet and listening.
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(c)2017 Laura S. Packer
Sunday, September 24, 2017
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True Stories, Honest Lies by Laura S. Packer is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License.
Based on a work at www.truestorieshonestlies.blogspot.com.
Permissions beyond the scope of this license may be available at http://www.laurapacker.com.
Based on a work at www.truestorieshonestlies.blogspot.com.
Permissions beyond the scope of this license may be available at http://www.laurapacker.com.
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