It's a rare moment of silence amongst us, because we are never quiet. Not because we have something important to say, but because the meaningless things you say in life are usually the most fun. But for once, no one is saying anything.
We are lying on our towels at the beach, completely silent. I do my best to sear this moment into my brain, because I feel like it's possibly the only time it will ever happen. I listen to the waves crashing and feel the sun and wind and occasionally a seagull caws and I consider that they are rallying their battle formation to close in and attack our picnic, but not even that can make me open my eyes and let this moment go. Because for me, this is a moment of clarity, where everything is perfect and I'm not going to worry about seagulls or sunscreen or school.
We never shut the fuck up. But we're quiet right now, if just for now. At this very moment, we don't need to say anything. But just for a moment.
Can you hear that? Laura asks.
Yeah, Kimberly says, it was the sound of silence. But not anymore.
And she jumps up, energetic and rambunctious once again. And we resume talking, not saying anything important, but enjoying the hell out of it nonetheless.