"The best kind of friend is the one you could sit on a porch with, never saying a word, and walk away feeling like that was the best conversation you've had." Unknown
We sat on the cold stone wall watching the remnants of the sun's red cloak sweep behind the dark trees. The thick grey clouds drifted overhead and we watched through the blue windows they made as the stars faded into light. We said a lot but didn't talk much.
Looking down from that hill into the dim park was like looking at the future-far yet near, visible, yet unclear and poorly lit. Probably just how it should be.
I could try to word my thoughts, but I feel that what I wish to say cannot be articulated, but felt. All I can say is that we didn't even notice the silence, because it really wasn't pure silence. It was humid with thoughts and cluttered with understanding.
Adventures with the best of friends leave me feeling blessed.