I got to thinking about space yesterday. Emptiness. The space between things. The void that gives you time to think, to pause, to reflect, to look. When I was involved in design projects for print, we talked about white space. In music, there are the pauses between notes, between phrases. In real estate, they want clean walls so that new clients have the space to think about the home as their own. In life there are the days, hours and minutes to yourself.

In addition to allowing for time to think, space gives you a place to move, to adjust, to escape. I’ve always liked space, my quiet times. Reading a book. Playing my guitar. Walking in the yard. Looking. Thinking. Saying nothing. Although, to be honest, I’ve been told on more than one occasion that I talk too much. Maybe that’s why I like to write. I can say things and the words can be read or not and then it’s done. Contact can be broken.

But I guess that’s what space does for you. Gives you time to think about those things and figure out ways to make them work. And I envy people who can be social without thinking about it, who just flow into conversations with ease. I have words, for sure, but they need to be pondered, and organized, and they seldom come like processed food, ready to eat. Which is why I always think of the right thing to say on the way home or two days later. And it’s why I treasure those friends who let me ramble without judgement and love me in spite of myself.