What do you say when there are no words?
A moment . . . A surprise and a thank you that tastes like dark chocolate that lost its bite in the velvet melt of lingering taste and cocoa powdered lips. I’m humbled with gratitude at its unexpected arrival and the smile that says more than words could express. There’s affection and tenderness when I see the care taken in finding the thing that shows me I was noticed and so were my preferences. Something so little means so much that there are no words.
A call. . . A call from a friend, and I take leave of my task because I always have time for this person. I miss a face and the warmth of a hug that holds me up and keeps me together. I can feel the love wrap around me in words that want to know how I am and what I’m doing and when we can see each other again. I walk away with a contented smile and there are no words for the joy that remains.
A question . . . My son wants to know why someone that was once a sister would hate me so much. He wants to know why the woman that replaced me doesn’t like me. I have no words. I tell him I don’t know why, but I don’t worry about it because I think of them far less than they think of me. But his question lingers and I feel I’ve shortchanged his trust that I would have the answers or look for them because I always do. I’m not worried about how they feel. It’s not my job to make them feel better about what is inside of them and it really doesn’t bother me that people that never see me don’t want to be around me. I’m not worried about it at the beach or exploring museums, but I see the pain in his face because it hurts him. I tell him he can ask them why they feel that way and he can tell him how he feels about it, but I really can’t answer for them. There are no words for the pain I can’t soothe for him.
A moment of recognition . . . My sons notice more than they speak of. I call them to remind them to eat before heading home to pick them up. I drive 13 miles home, then 15 miles to visit their Dad with traffic before me and exhaustion on my shoulders. It’s the second day in a row that I’ve made the trip for them and the first day was uneventful, but the second day is full of precaution for the scene I might cause and they notice it wasn’t necessary. I spy a note that calls me an “ex wife” although I haven’t been given the divorce I keep asking for, and smirk at the password, “God First” because there are no words for a paper that makes such a claim while also lying. They notice I’ve been trying to be the mom I want them to have, and I hope they didn’t notice the moments where I fought my wants against their needs because being selfish feels good. It burns and rages and I drive the last 15 miles and sing so I can direct my focus in the words that speak my emotions because I’m afraid of the words in my heart hurting my sons, so there are no words.
A question was asked . . . It was an opening to expand on my ideals and I did. I was so wrapped up in the passion and excitement I felt in expressing my vision and areas I need to break through. I see who I am and where I want to be and the excitement bubbled over. I looked around and I could feel it was too much. My intensity was intimidating and it was all too much and I gave too much at the start. I was assured that it was fine and it was welcome to hear too much. I sat in the empowerment that was offered because it seemed like it was too much until I saw that there is enough. But there are still no words.