My grandaunt left yesterday and my brother and grandmother accompanied her to the airport. My mother and uncle stood near our gate, talking. I was near our door, enjoying the silence. The house was empty, truly empty and even the night was quite silent. It was eerie and beautiful, both at the same time.
I’m a silent person. Not quiet, just silent. I can be quite but I’m more silent than quiet. I rarely talk at work, I rarely talk at home. So much so that I have now been labeled as the silent one. I like it though. I feel like people expect less from me, and people notice me less because I keep quiet. I’m very talkative at times though. I can go on and on for hours. But more often than not, I choose to not be heard, not be seen, and not be acknowledged.
Sometimes though my eyes dart around, looking for a listening ear. These are the times that are scary, that I try to avoid. Because sometimes, especially when it’s cold and gloomy, the silence, it surrounds me and it chokes me.
Question: How long is a moment?
Answer: An eternity.
Explanation: An eternity, if moment is to be memorable enough to be noted, remembered etc.