After a fun but crazy game night slash "Welcome, special guest K." party, our dining room table is strewn with napkins, crumbs and junk. Tomorrow morning, I will have to reckon with the mess. Now, all is (finally) quiet in our little house.
I can hear K. breathing and tossing at the foot of my bed. I love her. How absolutely lovely, to have friends with whom one can rest, even after a long separation. I have maybe four of these friends. When you're with them, you don't have to talk; you can just enjoy one another's company. There is no pressure to "catch up" or have a deep conversation. Without straining or striving for understanding, both people experience it. Silence is deep and rich, not squirmy - or awkward.
Heaven knows, I love words. How ironic, then, that the friends I value most are the ones with whom I talk least, the friends with whom I can sit for hours, saying little or nothing.
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