Leaves

Leaves make different sounds when the wind blows past them. Some rustle, some crinkle, and some sound like many delicate hands clapping at a performance that our ears were not sensitive enough to hear. The sounds that people make when the wind blows through their hearts are different too. It’s hard to know how to hold attention and space for and how much distance to maintain with somebody who is kind, smart, and thoughtful yet seems to still be processing the pain and confusion of losses that they have experienced. They tremble and shudder in the wind but don’t seem to realize that they are shuddering. 

When wind blows through a group of trees, they don’t make noise all at once. The tallest one with the longest branches or the one closest to the direction from which the wind is blowing begins to rustle first, and then the other neighboring trees follow. Then they create a cacophony of noises together, each distinct yet blending into a noise that sounds as if they are not complete without the other. They define the sound of the space in which they grow. 

Maybe, like the trees, each of us with our own sound of rustling in the wind come together to blend a sound that is sometimes dissonant from one another, sometimes indistinguishable from one another, yet is the sound that we are meant to make.