An Assortment of Unspoken Words

Can you piece a life together from the words that go unsaid? Sometimes, I think the things we never say—because of missed opportunity, fear, or delayed realization—define us more deeply than the words we bring into the world.

An experimental drabble. Undefined mixture of fiction and reality. Take it however you will.

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She told me there were tears in your eyes at the end of the day. We were catty schoolgirls with masks over our hollowness before I understood—in the trenches of my heart, not just Sunday school—what it meant to be a sinner. I wish I knew where you were so I could tell you: I’m sorry. I’ve had my heart broken by grief, but I’ve learned that time mends wounds yet magnifies regrets. I can live with scars. It’s harder to think I’ve caused yours.

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I am waiting for you to be the miracle story I tell. Will the scales fall off? I am afraid to say how I am afraid for you. You are my longest, trembling prayer, the one I never forget, the one that brings me to my knees.

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You were the flesh-and-blood embodiment of Taylor’s music. She just wasn’t famous then and I was too scared to dream.

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I looked through my old yearbook but it didn’t list your first name. I wonder if you’re still a missionary, or a teacher again. I wonder if you ever had a daughter, and if she turned out anything like me (I hope not, for your sake). Thank you for answering childish questions kindly, for giving me second chances, for teaching me about the assurance of salvation in a simple sentence. If we don’t meet on this side of eternity again, please wait to trade stories with me in golden streets.

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Sometimes I hated that you couldn’t take anything seriously. But I wish we stayed friends, if just for the silly, stupid reason that I miss your jokes.