Writing and freelancing can be lonely territory. It gets very quiet.
Quiet is the kind of monster that wants to keep me with it and feed me junk food.
Then a ‘ping’ on chat, a text, or a random postcard breaks the quiet. Sometimes there’s a box packed with lip balm and a new book about the origins of monsters. They come into the quiet and they remind me to look up, look out, connect. The quiet fades away.
I went out in the world earlier this week to help the friend who sent the monster book prepare for a big move. I didn’t do a lot. Mostly I lifted halves of boxes that were too big to lift alone. I spent some time practicing a different kind of quiet, and getting better at it. The kind where you listen for what a friend needs, and try to do it without too much trouble.
The trip got me thinking, about friends and the monsters we make for ourselves. I’m so grateful for my friends. And I’m grateful for the quiet too. Both the kind that allows me to listen, and the kind that is there to be broken.
Think I’ll go send a couple random postcards.