Dear You,

Today’s last call asked nothing of me but silence. I listened so fully that even my thoughts stepped away. Not until the final goodbye did I remember to breathe.

There’s something so intimate between thought and breath that when you turn one off the other stills. They’re like lovers, tender until one stirs.

But even silence has a sound, doesn’t it? Tonight’s was a low, aching hum filling space after the last speaker signed off with “grateful for you”. It sounded like leaving something behind, a heartbeat attached to a whisper.

I spent time unpacking their words, peeling away the layers of nervous tape and obedient cardboard flaps. Aren’t people the most beautiful when they stop trying?

In the end you and I are the remnants of our own quiet pursuits wrapped like unopened gifts, our minds stamped fragile. I slide a fingernail under the tape and lift.

Love,
Me