Wednesday, March 19, 2014

The Sound of Silence

I found myself sitting within the confines of a heavily windowed bakery in the midst of an afternoon lunch rush. Beigely tinted walls displaying paintings from various local artists and aromas of freshly created bread products accompanied a room buzzing with patrons. I had just received a generously portioned green salad and taken a corner seat along a community bar-style table looking outward into a patio dining area. Tall canvas umbrellas stood guard against bright curtans of yellow sunlight as diners enjoyed their meals.

Not quite knowing the exact reason, possibly out of forgetfulness or maybe out of a desire to be disconnected for a few moments, I had left my cell phone inside my car while taking in the flavors of the food in front of me. The immediate sensation was that of nakedness or slight self consciousness since this pocket-sized social crutch was rarely out of personal reach. There wasn´t even a book or piece of paper in my possession to serve as a slight layer of distracting comfort. Looking around to make sure the internal uncertainness was just an false element of imagination rather than an increasing reality, a calming fan of relaxation sprinkled the salad with a slightly more enjoyable taste. Rearranging the entrapped assortment of vegetables with the fork in my hand I found myself delaying the final bites of a now decreasing portion of lunch. 

A few millimeters of glass from the window directly in front of me was all that separated my presence from the wheel of people entering, exiting, and congregating within the outdoor patio. My attention became absorbed in the casual sites outside the window as an elderly woman stationed herself three seats to my left along the bar-style table. At first her presence wasn´t something that warranted much notice since the room was already filled with dozens of other feasting customers. However as time dwindled forward it became evident that oddly within this precise moment we by coincidence were sharing a great deal in common. She too was without a cell phone or book in hand and was simply watching the scores of tables filled with people through the looking window. She was silently observing the crowds with curious intent and I too was silent doing the exact same thing. The views were nothing special but the feeling of being fully present made them seem increasingly pleasant, even freeing.

I couldn´t remember the last time being physically next someone who was equally as concentrated on their surroundings without the influence of personal distractions nearby. This realization gave me an urge to get this random woman´s attention, to ask her questions about her life, to know what she was thinking, to even know how her meal was tasting. I simply wanted to know who she was. Yet at the same time the quietness was satisfyingly melodic, like a painting that didn´t warrant a further brush stroke, and despite the internal debating I let the moment ride itself to an abrupt conclusion when finally the woman stood up, left her empty plate on the table, and continued living the rest of her life. 

I looked up immediately and for a flicker of a second our eyes locked entirely, however within the same eclipsing of time our paths grew increasingly distant. Maybe similar thoughts were pacing through her mind but this is something I'll never know. 

The aftertaste of the green salad lingered as I stood up, folded napkin upon plate, and like the elderly woman before me, continued with the rest of my life.