Saturday, February 4, 2012

The Fine Heart of Listening

This one's for T.

Four years ago, almost to the day, we sat in the Solstice cafe sharing our stories. There was a kindred connection between us, one that had grown from our training on the crisis lines, but one that went beyond the relatively little time we'd known each other. I knew her in a way that told me we'd be fast friends, the kind distance can't tarnish.

T is gentle and wise beyond her years. She is not yet a mother, but she has a mother's touch, a mother's knowing. She is nurturing, honest, and braver than she knows. I love the way she nods after she laughs, like she's agreeing that the world is indeed a funny place and glad that it is so. I love the way I feel understood when I open up to her. Her company is a safe place for me, for anyone who sits with her and lets her listen. She will listen and she will hear you. She will be present with you, all the while humbly holding your experience in her hands, grateful that you have shared it.

I wish she were closer. I would see her every day if I could.

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