I tap on the walls of my heart.
Are you in there? Can we talk?
She seems so close at times, resting a few inches deep in my chest, only a whisper away. Yet today it feels I must travel miles to see her clearly.
So I begin my journey. Miles in silence, miles in movement, miles in questioning.
Where are you? When will you speak? I cannot hear you. Are you saying something? Come closer still.
When all is silent I know it is not because she lacks the courage to speak but because I lack the courage to listen.
So I stop asking, stop moving, stop meditating, stop trying so hard to catch her.
And I start listening. To the wind howl and the rain drop. To the birds chatting and the leaves rustling. To the ambulance wail and the motorcycle’s blast. To my baby’s giggles and my dog’s bark. To my own footsteps and the silence between my breaths. To my own heart beat.
Slowly I begin to hear her. Speaking the truths she always speaks.
She is back, a few inches deep in my chest. A whisper away. Where she always was.
Waiting for me to come home.
monique minahan 