• sonjababino

I Pitched a Tent


In a spot in my backyard, I pitched a four person tent. Not because I wanted to go camping but because I wanted, better yet needed, a quiet space to think. I didn’t think that I’d need it so soon, but something was wearing at me and I needed to get to the root of my mood. See, I allowed myself to be open, to feel, to care, to trust again. But I had a feeling deep within that something had changed.

I needed to just sit in the tent, meditate and let it come to me. But I didn’t even have to sit in it to get it. One moment I looked through the window to my backyard and watched the tent sway in the breeze. It was then that I remembered, just a few days ago I’d said to him “let’s sit in the tent and talk this thing out.” He sounded so elated that I’d purchased a tent, and even more elated to sit in it. I grew excited, I just knew we’d come to some resolution to our problem or perhaps decide together to let it go. He didn’t call, we didn’t sit in the tent, nor did we ever talk.

Yet, I needed to pitch this tent. Not because he’d come or that we’d work this issue out, but because it resembled something or someone. I get it now. The tent reminded me of me, waiting in the wind for someone other than myself to say what I’d already known in my heart. Sometimes I get caught up in waiting for people to say what they’ve already showed me. I don’t know why I do it, perhaps it’s my female instinct that craves closure. Funny thing about closure, it comes in the weirdest of ways. Not necessarily with someone’s words, or my words even. Sometimes, it’s just the action of non-action that sums it all up. We live in the things that we allow.

I pitched a tent to remind me that just because you show up and prepare for something doesn’t necessarily mean someone else will show up with the same intention. Their non-action is all you need because perhaps they just couldn’t say the words you thought you needed to hear to make it all better for you. Perhaps I just needed to see this empty tent, with its intention of having occupants sway in the wind, empty on the inside, yet strong and still standing. I, much like the tent, can have all the good intentions in the world but the things around me and the storms in the distance, while they may fold me from time to time, do not cause me to collapse. So you see, I didn’t pitch a tent in the backyard, I pitched me.

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