The Conversation Continues

Some conversations build walls.

Others build character.

I’ve spent a lifetime chasing the second kind

the conversations that carve,

not comfort;

that teach,

not just talk.

I remember the early mornings with my mother,

coffee and sunlight on the kitchen table.

Those were about expectations

what could be,

what should be,

and how much of it depended on effort.

These conversations are lost but not forgotten.

Then came the late-night talks with my father.

We hid our truths inside the glow of the television

Star Trek, The Honeymooners, MASH.*

The shows gave us cover to speak about what really mattered:

fear, love, pride, and the weight of being a man.

Some lessons learned others avoided.

Now, I find myself in conversation with my own children.

Some are silly and fleeting,

others sharp enough to pierce the armor I didn’t know I wore.

We talk about everything from the absurd to the infinite

shows that distract us from life

and questions that demand we return to it.

Always in pursuit of making them feel ready.

And then there are the conversations with my wife

the ones that hold the house together.

She speaks with a heart that always thinks of others,

even when her own pain is whispering for rest.

Those talks remind me that love isn’t always loud.

Sometimes it’s the quiet act of listening

when you’re the one who wants to speak.

And lately, I’ve been having the same conversation

again and again

with a dear friend whose memory drifts like a tide.

Each time, we circle the same stories,

the same laughter,

the same questions about what might have been.

He doesn’t always remember that we’ve already said these things

but I do.

And somehow, that makes each repetition sacred.

It’s as if the universe keeps giving us a chance

to mean what we said the first time.

I used to think conversations were about exchanging words.

Now I see they’re about exchanging selves.

Each one leaves a mark

a small renovation of who we are becoming.

Field Note:

A good conversation doesn’t fill the silence. It refines it.

So speak while the day is still listening, have the conversations today that will shape your memories tomorrow and prevent the aches of silence.