Words.

I love words.

I don't claim to understand a lot of them or use them in a fanciful way, but I do love them, truly I do. I like the way they taste in my mouth, the way they roll around on the tongue and bounce off the sides of my mouth before springing lightly from my lips. It's my favorite guilt-free indulgence. Words words words. They come in so many shapes, colors, sizes and can be used and reused a number of times. They are a familiar friend, and yet there are times when they escape me. Sometime I desperately want them to encourage a soul caught in the doldrums, warm the cockles of a despairing heart, or assuage a broken soul grieving a loved one's passing, but alas, it is at those times they elude me. Lately, I have found myself without words, a place I once thought would be uncomfortable but now realize is necessary, becomes more comfortable with time, with maturity. I have found that the simplest words suffice. Really, what can I say to my friend who has just lost his sister, whom he has been taking care of during her four year battle with cancer? What could I possibly say to comfort him as he packs up his sister's entire life for the long, lonely drive home? What do I say to my friend who is trying to riffle through what's left of one chapter of her life? Everywhere she looks she is reminded of the end of her marriage: receipts, credit cards, junk mail, forgotten shoes, countless mason jars, etc. How do I tell her to cling to hope? And although I desperately search for the right words--differently shaped, some shiny, others tarnished and worn--none of them are appropriate. Oh words--don't fail me now.

In the absence of words, the non-words have appeared. They were shy and indistinguishable at first, mere wisps of words. Once they became accustomed to the silence of my mouth on sabbatical, they lingered and took a definite form, smooth and velvety in texture, cool to the touch--like Jell-o pudding. I have learned to love the non-words and the silence that accompanies them. The non-words, in their own, shy manner, have helped me see they are the words I had been looking for.

I have learned and am still learning to say little, sometimes nothing at all. I am learning to hold back the confetti language for another day, a brighter day. I am learning to get used to the taste of non-words in my mouth. I am learning to let silence do the talking because the non-words I feel are best conveyed when I cancel out the noise.