“Our secrets will be our courage when we need it”
– Fugitive Pieces, Anne Michaels
I spent the weekend away with two old friends in Oxford. It was so surreal to be with their enigmatic minds again, to listen to them chide and talk and sing, and to be in Oxford, which often feels like a castle with a garden that has been left to grow in secret for generations.
I went there in a terrible state of mind. Completely frazzled and unfocused. The weekend was so healing, despite the fact that I was huddling in a corner in silence most of the time. Strong magic happens when old friends cross paths again, and the gentle rhythm and charm of a town causes hearts to open.
In quiet, everything is known. The world is known in whispers. Comfort comes in whispers. Secrets come in whispers. Worry comes in whispers. Truth comes in whispers. And tonight, back at my desk but no longer sure where I am or what I am, my heart is full of them. Tomorrow I will wake up, and life will be normal again.