ask anything

I’ve always known I don’t do well with silence.  The words and thoughts and possibilites that echo in my head when the absence of truth is all that floats.  It’s easy to panic with a wild imagination and a healthy dose of anxiety to act as a catalyst to those catastrophic fantasies.  Of course, it’s certainly easy enough to pretend on the outside – that much I’ve perfected.   But oh, the questions.  The not knowing.   They just don’t sit well.

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I finally found a moment to break the news, or some of the news, as she sipped her wine and pondered ordering dessert.  It flooded out of me, I felt my ears get hot as I tried to explain – it’s not you, it’s not this place, it’s me, it’s what’s inside of me.  It’s what I have to do.  Where, she asked.  Everywhere, somewhere I’m not sure of yet, I responded.  And then, quieter….not here. 

Her reaction is what shocked me most – calm, reassurance, support.  Choked back tears at the thought of my absence, which, in itself is always…filled with weight.   I think I’m always surprised at how strongly we can affect each other, effortless and irrevocable.

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What would you say to me
If you could talk to me
You could ask anything
I wouldn’t lie