Tonight, I just wanted to be quiet. Though I don't tend to gravitate towards silence, I'm beginning to realize how much of life is better understood without words.
My evening of quiet was inspired by my roommate. He's falling in love. He didn't tell me this, but I can tell. He plays the piano with more vigor. He smiles, even when he is annoyed. He hugs me more, which is great because he gives excellent hugs. He floats rather than walking.
Love is patient and kind- it also grows quietly but with great purpose. Sometimes, love is certainly not quiet. It can come out in screams and sonnets and song, and is equally beautiful in all forms. But I contend, the greatest love to behold is the silent type. Love that permeates the air, is shared through a touch, passed in a gaze, felt in the heart.
Maybe all the love in the air is squelching the noise usually associated with the mid-20's lifestyle. Maybe I'm just getting to old to go out on Friday nights. Either way, I'm glad that I decided to revel in quiet for a while this evening. I hope to become more comfortable in quiet spaces. The quiet helps me appreciate the present so much more. And I hope that my roommate continues exuding love all over my apartment. The extra hugs are a great thing to come home to.
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