It’s not the big and crazy things that draw my heart. The parties, the drama, the anniversaries. Those are fun and memorable.
Photo by Malte Fleuter on Unsplash
But it's in the daily. The regular. The mundane. Those predictable routines. The milliseconds that combine into minutes, into hours, and into days and years. That is how the trust is built, the safety is rooted.
It is in those moments that the line I hold to my heart, previously wound up tight like a fishing line, is let out. It’s in those moments that I test the water to see if it’s safe. I am great at being the funny one when I have to. It keeps everyone far enough away to not actually know me. But those moments are mountaintop moments. The safety happens in the low points, the regular, the wave.
In the moments where it’s okay not to speak, but just be. To admit that all I want to do is be here and not be alone. To admit that maybe we need quiet, we don’t need to keep the conversation going.
Those moments blend together into a quilt that is life. The best quilts are the ones so used and worn and loved. They are frayed but the thought of repairing the holes would take away some of its charm. Those are the quilts that feel safest.