Speaking without words

All day I felt constrained and compromised.

My words are harsh. My tone is unforgiving, and my heart cold.

I am disdainful and exasperated. Those things make a person ugly.

I act in an unlovely manner and if the guilt doesn’t weigh me down, the worry that I might never figure this stuff out certainly does.

The feeling I hate most in all the world is that sense, lodged deep in my solar plexus, that I am somehow betraying my boys in these moments.

They lark around choosing to upend their cereal bowls and flick milk at one another at the exact moment that I nip to the bathroom. It’s the second time this week. I am tired – so tired – of repeating things that they should already know.

Please don’t get down from the table until you’ve finished. Do not mess around with the milk. Stop saying that. Leave him alone. Ignore him. Please sit down. Of course you have to finish it. No, there’s already sugar on it. Where are you going? Sit back down.

But in the darkness of a little boy’s bedroom I breath more deeply than I have for hours.

I slide underneath the duvet cover – adorned with farmyard animals – making a mental note to replace it with something a little more befitting a boy who is growing up so fast. But it reminds me that he’s still so little really.

He scoots over wordlessly, making room for me with a wholehearted welcome.

An arm is flung around me and we settle into a silent rhythm, inhaling and exhaling in perfect synchronicity – our first moment of agreement all day long.

His head nestles into my neck and he breathes me in so deeply that I almost feel I might vanish.

How peculiar that I say so much throughout the day – the vast majority of which appears to go utterly unheard – and yet our close proximity seems to ‘say’ a million things I don’t have words for.

My silent presence brings peace and calm; the likes of which my words can never seem to conjure, no matter how I try.

He whispers secret words to that effect into my ear, and every frayed and floating fibre of my being falls back into its rightful place, stilled.

I resolve to speak less and to say so much more – without uttering a word.

Advertisements

2 thoughts on “Speaking without words

  1. Cecila says:

    Saved for later on! Many thanks for the impressive information (the first paragraph at least).
    I’d examine it now, but I got stuff to do. In reality, I should have just read it as opposed to writing comments that I wish to read it. At times I’m a
    bit of a twit, haha.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: