Dear Anita,

Do you ever park your car and just…sit?

Not necessarily to avoid the place you have arrived or to gather yourself in anticipation of what is to come. But instead to just…be? To enjoy this kind of in between place.

Not quite yet “here,” but definitely no longer “there.” Not home, but certainly in a place that is wholly your own. A place to bubble ourselves from the incessant barrage of stimulus.

I like the clunk, clunk, clunk as I switch my gear shift into park. I like the jangle of my keys as I switch off the ignition. I like the silence that follows. No music, no air conditioner hiss, no bone-vibrating engine buzz. Just the the faint whine of my persistent tinnitus and the stillness. I can close my eyes and let go of the focus required to navigate the world’s persistent sea of near-disasters: people in dark clothing running across the street at night, drivers lumbering lazily across their lane dividers, lost construction debris tumbling across the highway.

It’s a kind of safe feeling. Once again, I have escaped the near-disaster. My reward: this brief moment in which I can savor my skin as it begins to heat in the still air, take in the scent of old burgers and peppermint lip balm, adjust enough to the quiet to begin to hear the muffled sound of traffic and people talking in the near distance. What a gift, this moment, this ability to choose when to re-engage, this time spent in restful space.

May you find your moment of solace, wherever it greets you.