The Summer of Silence
Hi my friend,
I've missed you.
I've missed doing this -
sitting down with a warm
cup of tea by my side
and writing you a letter
each week.
The thing is…
in late July I noticed
this eerie silence within me.
Every time I sat down
to share my life with you…
I was met with a vast emptiness.
A blank page.
A nothing.
And no matter how many times
I tried to “pull myself together,”
the silence remained.
It was as if all my creativity
had disappeared.
Gone to a place I couldn't reach.
And however frustrated
or annoyed it made me,
I couldn't change
a single thing.
I sometimes like to imagine myself
living in an old countryside manor…
with weathered stone walls,
arched doorways,
and an overgrown
rose garden.
It's where my creativity lives.
So this summer,
when the silence took over…
I closed all the windows.
Covered the furniture
with large cotton sheets.
And I let this house sleep…
until it was time to wake up again.
Whenever that may be.
I rested.
I gave myself over
to the quiet.
It felt as if I was grieving
something I couldn't
yet see.
But I trusted
that my body knew
what it was doing.
And it did.
Because one Monday morning
in late August
I got a message from
my father.
It was a wedding invitation
I was hoping never to receive.
But it was here.
They were getting married.
My father
and the woman who wanted
the Louis Vuitton bag.
And suddenly it was clear
what those quiet months of rest
had been preparing me for…
to gather the energy.
So that when this moment came,
I could sit with the memories,
the pain of my parents' divorce,
the heartbreak and the betrayal.
To cry
and breathe through
it all.
But also…
to finally feel the relief.
As if something
I had been subconsciously dreading
could no longer ambush me.
It was over.
Finally, it was over.
And I was still here.
Still breathing.
Still me.
Ready to write again.
So if you're facing
painful news this week,
I'm wrapping you in a warm hug
and reminding you…
you are strong enough
to face this.
You really are,
my friend.
With love,
Elina
