The Lines Between Us
The connected conversations that rely on timelessness, by which I mean no interruptions, no deadlines, no need to be elsewhere unless hunger or sleep call.
I yearn for those conversations that rattle along easily with the occasional punctuation caused by pauses for thought. These are not conversations about offspring or shopping, or when the plumber is coming. I don’t know what they are about, or even actually, if the “about” is the important thing. When these conversations happen, they are calm and quiet and easy. Maybe easy is the wrong word, because sometimes they can be deeply emotional. We might cry and we might laugh. But the display of emotion and the expression of it is unselfconscious, it is loving, and is held firmly between us. The spreading of mascara and mucus is unheeded. A tissue is delved for, proffered, received gratefully but unthanked.
There is a barely regarded, unstated, understanding of humanity. There’s no requirement to fix anything, just the space and time in which to say it and be heard, and to hear it said. A nod, a smile, a hand reached out… or absurd snorting laughter.
I feel a yearning for this mutuality, this lightening interaction on heavy dark days. When in the midst of them we are warmed, understood, valued.
Afterwards I often discover myself deep in thought. I have been challenged in some way, not a threatening challenge, but one that charges me to consider the weight of what has passed. The consideration of one another is a requirement, a need… but it doesn’t weigh heavily because it holds love.
Today I consider… while I draw lines.