I am out here running in the silence because my heart is too loud. After coming back from Relevant, from Zoe and Lisa-Jo as company in the warm hotel room and from the patience of rocking a baby in my arms, I can't hear myself think.
I can't hear myself talk, or question, or laugh, or ponder, or love. My heart clamors with voices: do this, Hilary, be that, Hilary, did you finish... did you turn in... did you find the time to email.... can we make a meeting with... and in the rumbling I can't hear anything.
Has that ever happened to you? You're so full to the brim with voices that you can't find your own? Your heart, with all its rooms and hallways, feels too crowded for you?
I pass a small evergreen tree growing on the side of the path. Its green is shocking against the fading fire of fall. As I pass by, it bends in the rush of air and seems to wave me onwards. Hilary, there is something good around the next corner.
I keep my head down and try to listen. A bird calls to its neighbor somewhere above my head. I see her shadow dart just in front of me, and she is off, singing as she flies. Hilary, there is something good up ahead.
The clouds find their reflection in the glassy puddles and as my feet dart around them, I see my own reflection flash across the water - Hilary, here you are. Be where you are.
And then, just as I feel my heart begin to empty out the voices, the to-do lists, the half-finished anxieties...
The sun rises over the water.
Yes, Lord, I could run like this forever.