Jim Steele        Howie-in-the Hills        Laura Sobbott Ross
Sweet Silence 

The mountain we see from a distance changes when we 
gaze up from its base. There is beauty that is meant to 
be enjoyed from a distance—it’s why we can’t stand 
within our own horizon.

She sat on the right side of same park bench everyday,
on her lunch break. She rarely ate though, choosing to 
read instead, mostly the classics—F. Scott, Jane, 
and Ernest. For a couple months, I always sat on the other 
end of the same bench, also reading, while stealing 
glances in muted fascination. I never spoke to her. 
Our tilted-head-hello’s was our only conversation. 

Then one day she arrived and I was sitting on the opposite 
end of the bench— her end. She paused for a moment and 
I looked up. She dipped her head hello and seated herself on 
the left side. On the third day of our new locations, she 
turned to me from her end of the bench and spoke up,
“I’ve been wondering why you switched ends. You always 
sat here and then suddenly over there.”
She half-smiled, in brightened curiosity. 
After a few moments, I replied:  “It may sound silly but
I noticed that if I sit here,  your shadow falls across me
and I think it’s romantic.” 
Her eyes widened, her mouth opened slightly— “Oh, I love that.”
I smiled sadly and stood, “I did too.” 
I nodded my head goodbye and walked away,
I never returned to our bench. I never saw her again.  

No friendship could measure up to what I had imagined 
in that sweet, full silence. The romantic in me had no desire 
to travel toward her, knowing the wonder I’d imagined 
would only change.
She was part of my horizon. Nothing more.