Three people at a table. A family though not complete. The other two were off, enjoying their teenage years. The middle child stuck at home for the time being, and desperately wishing she were elsewhere. No, the parents were not arguing. Not yelling or shouting overwhelmingly rude comments at each other. No, only silence occupied the dinner table. Delicious food was set out, and though this usually inspires laughter and prolonged enjoyable conversations, this food was only for the bodies stimulation. The silence was deafening. Saying more than any swear word or underhand comment could. The love between the two people she cared about most, those who gave her life, had cast this love aside like an old raiment. Like an old child’s clothes, it brings memories back but supposedly has no place in life today. Outgrown, it is thrown away with sadness and a longing for it is always present. This has caused the silence at the table. How much the middle child, sitting on the outskirts of the bubble of impenetrable silence, wishes she could dive into the heap of the past and search for the thrown away love her parents used to have. It would be hard without knowing what she was looking for. She would need to see a scrap of love between her parents first before she could come and resurrect the rest of it into a piece that would fit them today and is not see easily set aside. As the resounding silence continues though, the girl sighs and resigns to a continued lack of communication. Better silence than harsh noise.
Right?