If a tree falls in the forest and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound?
Even if I could do that trick off the jump, if I was alone in the park, would I bother to attempt it?
There are so many moments in a day when I want to share a little tidbit. When I want to do a little trick or share a piece of my life with you, and you are not there to pick up the phone, to respond to my text, or to just let me swing by and tell my tale.
It’s those little things in their aggregate that slowly build up to that moment that girls like to call “a little healthy cry” to sort things out.
There are times when I would normally “go for it,” but only if you were there. Otherwise, what really is the point?
There is a spot of healthy in the self-validation and self-worth that comes from our ability to achieve. We do it not only for ourselves but for the recognition of those we most care about. Think about that for a second: Think of all the things you wouldn’t have done had it not been for those people around you.
The people you want to impress. The people you want to notice. The people who will say those words that make the warm and fuzzy inside. The validation and the trials and tribulations, all worth it.
There are so many things locked inside. Reserved only for you. They will never have an outlet because only you would have understood. Only you would have appreciated the meaning behind why I was even telling you in the first place.
As I stand upon the precipice of the cliff, looking over into the crystal blue waters below, I think to myself, “Why bother?”
Had you been here, you would have looked at me, knowing damn well you were scared shitless, and one of us would have just ran to the edge and cannonballed, or—even better—threw a frontflip in before the other one had a chance to really think about how apprehensive either of us was.
Then one of us would have been held to “pussy status” (sorry ladies—his word, not mine) if we didn’t follow suit and “one-up” on the next run.
It was always a great game. First, or better? You go first, you get first props; you go second, you damn well better stick it and add a little flair.
These last few weeks have been filled with so much, “I wish I could tell you, and you alone.” They’ve been adding up one upon the next.
I don’t go onto my phone so much as I used to with the urge to text. I know you won’t respond. I don’t call anymore knowing that your number had been reassigned, and I don’t want to have that awkward conversation. I can’t even walk by your apartment anymore and stand out front and kick it with your doorman because it is no longer you.
It’s all SHHHHHHHHH. Bottled up, a list of things that only you were privy to and no one else. Stories that have no listener, a movie without an audience.
It’s these times that hurt most. These are the times that slice paper-cut-size incisions upon my heart. The minute scars healing but marked forevermore.
Because just like that tree that fell when no was around, he endured his pain silently, for there was no one there to listen.
The tree never made a sound. He fell…
As he sat upon the forest floor, he counted his rings and remembered the lean years and the plentiful. He lies still upon the forest floor and thought to himself, “Wouldn’t it be nice if some people came and sat upon the new bench I have become and share their whispers and most important moments upon me?”
He sat for a moment and realized that it didn’t matter if he had made a sound. It was now his chance to be the ears to listen and not speak. To be the keeper of moments reserved for those who sat upon him.
The years rolled by, and the moss grew. A couple drew their names upon his bark with a pocket knife and shared a first kiss. Another couple broke up. Three kids tore his dead branches off and had a battle of knights and dragons. It hurt, but it also brought joy as he watched their imagination save the fair princess and the chivalry that ensued.
He never regretted not making a sound. It was the mere fact of his falling, and knowing he did, that made an impact upon so many others that brought joy to his heart.
There are so many sounds I want to share with you, David. So much has happened since you left us. But those thoughts and feelings are reserved for you and me, and you and me alone. Like the tree, you will remain silent evermore. Like the visitor, I will sit upon the bench you have provided, listen, and share more now about what has happened since you left us.
I could not have anticipated how many people would have sat with us and shared their moments since you have fallen. So I sit here upon the bench you have created and share silently with you those things I cannot speak to another. I still wish you were standing tall with us. But I will make the best of your falling, not worrying so much if you made a sound or not. However, I silently carve upon your bark the promises of yesterday and things to come.
