The Sound of Silence

We sit in your house, alone, just the two of us. We play, we laugh, we play some more. Wishing the day will never end. And yet, I dread the future, the day we have to live on our own. 

I scoop some porridge into bowls while you set bread in the toaster. We sit in the silence, chewing away. Very soon, this will be our daily routine.

There's a sound at the door. Mail drops through the door slot. Bills. One day we'll have to pay them ourselves. 

We look at each other and smile awkwardly. One day we'll be working to put food on the table.

I giggle nervously. We're almost adults.

This is your house, not mine. It's the first time I've been here, and yet I feel this place is ours. Just the two of us. Outside, the wind howls, overturning flower pots and pushing trees about. Inside, we are safe. Warm. We have each other. The house is quiet. 

You finish first and clear your plate. I continue to slowly sip. And think.

The phone rings. You let it ring. We swim in the cacophony until your answering machine picks up. Savour the sound. The silence is overwhelming. 

Finally, I scoop the last of your cooking into my mouth. We place our dishes in the sink. We can get to them later. Time flies by. We sit the afternoon away, just you and I and your couch.

Soon we will fend for ourselves. I wonder what we'll truly become. 

We sit in your house, just the two of us, feeling like adults. And then your father comes home at five and the spell is broken. 

For now.