Silence

Got the emissions inspection done this morning, taxes paid online. All went pretty well.



In the OR, I will often ask a question of my surgeon, about supplies, dressings, splints, c-arm, an endless list of possibilities, but I know what I need to ask about ahead of time. Often about the next case. So, I ask, clearly. Rarely, I get a reply right then. They are busy. I know I will eventually get an answer. New scrubs sometimes get anxious about this, and I have to reassure them, and dissuade them from asking again too soon.

I've planted the problem with them, and I'll hear back later. I'm fine with that.

My father always insisted on an answer immediately. To any question he asked. No time to think, no option to evade, and I would be punished for the wrong answer the rest of my life. My mother also expected a reply right away, although she was less punitive. If only I'd known the power of silence, known they couldn't actually make me form words, that he couldn't really do anything worse to me than he already was. Well, he could have beaten me, which terrified me, but then I might have gotten some help.

I didn't know, and I didn't have any idea of courage. Small, utterly dependent, I tried to follow the shifting rules where I always lost. He was so sensitive to any slight, and everything I did or said was "rude" and remembered to be used against me. Which I was required to admit to whenever asked.

Drove me nuts in my early adulthood when my questions were ignored. I thought one always had to answer, I thought that's how it was supposed to work. TV show dialogue worked that way, reinforcing the Rule. Took me a long while to understand, and admire, those who simply don't answer when there is need.

Silence is a potent force, no wonder my father wanted to make sure he took it away from me. I repaid him in silence, and he had no one but himself to blame.

Silence is very comfortable for me. Dylan and I can sit quietly together, and it's blissful. I don't mind at all when I don't hear from a friend for a long time. I send emails back quickly only because I'm interested and want to. I'm perfectly content to leave space for anyone to reply, to think, or accept that they may be ignoring me intentionally. Far be it from me to object, or even take it personally. Lives go on, stuff happens, it's all fine.

If it's important enough, an answer will drift through. Just patiently listening as I go about my other tasks. No apology needed if they don't get back to me, if there isn't a returned email, or new blog post. None required. We all have a right to not answer, to think, ignore, or simply not reply for no reason at all. No words are owed. No obligation, no matter what they say.


Found a bag left on our verge, heavy canvas. With a bicycle handlebar, apparently sawn off, and some cut up credit cards. I called the police, they sent an officer, who told me they'd keep it in evidence, especially the cards.

Moby got to sleep in the sunflowers this morning. The truck emptied the bin, and he cared not at all.