The clock ticks loudly

I sat at my desk this morning and stared at an empty screen fully intending to fill the page with words. But the more I sat and stared at the blinking cursor, the less I could find to write about. An overwhelming sense of loss filled me as the clock ticked and Emptiness opened the door to come inside and took a seat on the couch. Instead of brushing it away, I abandoned my attempt to write and sat down next to it and turned on a movie I'd been watching the previous evening. And I sat with Emptiness for a while to gauge how long it would stay and to ask questions of why it had shown up at all.

I know this sounds somber. Bear with me.

For many, isolating has led to a life of climbing over top of one another, arguing over little things that suddenly appeared where annoyances never were before. Days are filled with tasks that cannot be put off. But my isolation is instead a time of self-reflection and introspection. I do not always mind this. So while Emptiness might take a seat on the couch, my introverted self welcomes in some ways, the opportunity to dig a bit deeper into the myriad of thoughts that always linger beneath the surface.

I believe people grow when they are loved and they feel safe. I am blessed to have been given many people in my life who have given me this space. Emptiness reminded me today, of the people I developed deep relationships with who have left. Either years ago or recently. And while I don't think those people will read this, I can only hope they know the important place they continue to hold. We live and we love. And we always hold a place in ourselves for the memories of the conversations that kept us up at night, the long walks, the laughter, and the impressions instilled on our lives.