When screaming into the void, isn’t it nice to think sound still echoes?
As a former military brat, the concept of “home” to me is… vague (at best). I don’t have a hometown; my elementary school chums would stare blankly at my Facebook profile were you to show it to them; when I go “home” it’s to wherever my family happens to be at the moment. I can’t remark on who lived on this street or where I used to go after school every day…
Impermanence is emblazoned somewhere on my coat of arms, I am certain.
Yet, in spite of the constant upheaval in my life, what keeps me grounded are those rare friends who, by some miracle, have decided that absence is not a barrier to communication. These are very special people; people who take the time to sit down and write cards; people who are brave enough to send me texts because “hey, I was thinking about you the other day.”
And to those people, I say THANK YOU.
As I mentioned earlier, “home” is where family is; in the last year, my little family has found itself broken and scattered about. We’re, all of us, trying to find “home.”
My life is so far removed from what it once was that some days it feels like my memories happened to someone else.
Thankfully, friends are the co-guardians of our past; they are the proof and protectors of those distant times (I’m not even 30, I know… but hey, I get this). They remind me of when I made them laugh, of when they made my smile, and when tears were shed together rather than in isolation.
I had originally intended to write about “silence”. In spite of the comfort silence can afford, I find nothing to be more disconcerting than sending out a message and receiving no signal that is was received; no acknowledgement that the other party in question cares about what I have to say.
It’s demoralizing… I hate that feeling of being ignored. Especially by someone for whom I care. However, I have resolved not to let silence deter me from making my feelings known. After all, when I am at my lowest, a kind word is a tonic; a message from a friend… can almost be a resurrection. Why should I not offer the same?
I don’ think we should be afraid, as we so often are, of saying “hey, I care about you, you dork* (*as in any exchange, know your audience).” Yet, at some point in our histories, we started to believe that an expression of this nature comes with a price; something must then be expected of the receiver, right? Kindness doesn’t come cheap?
Rubbish. If someone places a price on affection, drop ’em like the proverbial hot potato…it’s not worth burning your tongue for a taste of the sour-cream-smothered feast.
That being said, please do take two seconds somewhere in your day to respond with an initial “Thanks!” or “You too!” Silence is not golden; imagine if you complimented your friend’s shirt and they just stared at you, eyes distant and glassy… creepy.
So to those of you who are listening: You are the best. Thank you for being here for me. If I can ever help you (in any way that doesn’t result in jail or imminent death), please let me know.
Ta ta for now…