Companionable Silence

As a younger woman, I used to wonder why older couples often ate out at restaurants barely uttering a word to each other.  I thought it odd that they didn't speak, but often sat gazing away from each other's eyes.  Recently, however, I believe I gained a greater understanding.  Larry and I were relaxing in our sun porch in companionable silence.  Occasionally, Larry would comment on the activities of birds.  Then, we'd sit silently. I'd comment on the moodiness of the overcast sky.  And then we'd be silent some more.  The sound of happy conversation took place in our neighborhood, but we continued to sit quietly, happy to be in each other's presence, but not needing to say a whole lot.  There is a peace in being with someone you have loved for a long time, someone who knows you so well that he can finish your sentences or utter the same thought at the same time that it happened to be rolling around in your head.  Sometimes, words are unnecessary.  Sometimes, words risk getting in the way of a moment when simply being together is far more important than anything that could ever be said.