Oh personal history, as you often have, you sit with me. These days, though, we pass more moments in silence together. Comfortable, like an old couple, there’s less to hash out. Not alone but also rarely breaking the calm of peaceful, quiet moments. Reflective but with clarity on par with an impressionistic artwork. Tranquil, soul-edifying browsing of a personal gallery. Something like that. Sometimes.
Don’t get me wrong, sometimes the nostalgia still sparks me up, but my history more often, these days, sits with me like a quiet beloved companion. We are keeping each other company; we don’t feel the need to fill every silence with this or that good or bad memory. It’s enough to know that it was worth it and remains so, and that my friend, this history, will not leave, not yet. Soft-spoken but absolutely reliable in times of need, with an honest, encouraging word—but more than mere encouragement, a broad perspective that offers a deep breath of gratitude, as we all need sometimes, to provide calm and steadiness.
Beautiful