...we would go there. Lying in the long grass, gorging on
berries pilfered from some anonymous source and listening to the
sounds of summer: sunbeams and buzzing bees and wind rustling through the trees. Looking up into
a forever so very blue, counting cloud creatures and
laughter.
Closing our eyes and listening to the silence of the day, hidden underneath the bustle; sharing this silence with you was always easy, almost instinctive. Like sharing the air that we breathe, only sweeter.
Of all moments, it is these I remember best and love the most. Basking in the comfort of shared stillness, alone together bringing new meaning. Living as though in a quiet bubble, impenitrable and serene. This, this is what I loved about you.
But you would always have to ruin it, a sputtering of nonsense to break the calm. You couldn't handle being silent for too long. You said words brought more meaning to it, made it easier to remember.
You never did understand the enchantment behind it. You never clearly saw how exquisite it was, a thing of beauty, to be able to share a silence so comfortably. Perhaps one day, when the noise no longer brings you peace, you will look back on this and see what I mean.