As I’ve grown, I’ve come to appreciate these silences. These moments of cherished stillness, as if the world has been on hold. As if, for a moment, all activity resides elsewhere from my pondering mind that lies in a blissful reverie. The cry of a blue jay echoes in the countryside outside my window – yet silence is all I hear.

It’s in these silences that I find myself changing – from the girl I am to the girl I once knew, and all development between – the girl that ran through the rain wearing a smile, catching the rain on her tongue, and the young writer who dreamed of a fantasy, the boy that would steel her heart away.
A girl of simple joy, and not a care in the world.
Where a mother’s advice covered simply what matched and what didn’t, and to always wear a slip under a dress – how to talk to boys who were up to no good, and to always finish what you start.
The time she discovered there is a first for everything.
The first time a boy expressed a crush, and the gentle smile he flashed her way. The first moment she felt pretty, and loved by her peers. The moment she sang for an audience, and walked from the stage into a room of applause.
The day she discovered a different side of living.
That life can be confusing and heartbreaking – the time she asserted herself and received rejection from a person she felt for. The instance she found that emotions can be provoking: the power they have to envelope you in their pain, or seclude you in their joy. Where she first felt comfort on paper, more than she ever felt possible.
The moment she looked to her past, and wished for its simple contentment. The times she could run free, nothing to hold her from the place she wished to go. She could feel the wind through her limbs and giggle at the shapes the clouds made as they raced through the sky – where she could experience the riveting sun glaze her face as she basked in the summer warmth.
The moment she recalled the remaining spirit that still glides through her driven veins. Where she, for the first time, knew her place in life, and the purpose she was to fulfill – where she sought beyond her own voice, and heard the breath of God – answering the prayers she whispers every night, before going to sleep.
When she discovered the beauty of the moon, and the tenderness of touch.
The moment she truly needed to be loved for who she was. To be comforted in knowing she wasn’t alone, and willing to offer a hand in pain. Where, more than ever before, she was comfortable being herself.
The call of the blue jay sounds, and she attains its cries.

And through the pondering silences I’ve grown. I’ve come to listen to the calls of the birds that fly past, resting on branches of trees, offering the graciousness of their song. I listen, knowing that through their joy, their murmurs of spirit, I piece things together that I’ve lost along the way.
And in the silence, I find myself.