One time when I lived in Valbonne, I took the last bus from Antibes back home. At that time, I lived about 10 minutes walk from the village, and the bus terminates at the old town centre. It was dark early that night, and there weren’t many people on the bus. I stepped off, it was cold, but I started walking in the direction of home. Down the side of the village, passed the big car park. Before I could cross the road, the bus I’d taken was driving past so I stopped and waited. But instead, it stopped and the driver opened his window. I was a little surprised.
He asked me where I lived, and I tried to explain it in the little French I knew. He then told me, in English, to get in. He told me that he’d drop me close to my home, since it was late and he was going in that direction anyway. I think I cried that night, because it was a time when I was being let down by some friends who had promised to help me… and I was touched that a complete stranger had done something so simple but kind. That was over 3 years ago.
In the few times that I’ve gone to and from Valbonne this year, I have met this driver again. He recognises me now, but I don’t think that he remembers that night. I’ve been meaning to remind him of that moment and say thank you, but I haven’t gotten the chance yet. These are the silly things I do, which I have often been ashamed of because I fear that it makes me look desperate. But the reality is this, that when I have genuine appreciation for something or someone, the feeling will weigh on my heart until I express it.
It’s as if there is a little fire in me who is determined to express herself, and if I try to put it out then it only gets hotter. Maybe that’s why I like to write so much. I’ve learned over time to be less ashamed – in fact, I am less afraid of being vulnerable these days. I know that when I express myself, it doesn’t matter how it looks to others, the fact is that I become empty at that moment. Then there is space for something new and fresh to come in. Words are not so important as we think they are, rather the source of inspiration for the words is the real treasure.
As such, I have made one rule for my life. Try as much as I can to leave nothing unsaid, and never live in silence. Sometimes it takes a little time to know if what I have to say is really important, and I give myself that time. But good or bad, if I feel physically that it needs to be said then I will say it one way or the other. It may be in a phone call, a message, or maybe a little note, or unsent letters.
Words can be forgiven, but the heaviness that the unspoken imprints on your body is not worth the pain. If you have something important to say, then say it. It may only be a little risk to say that someone was right, or that they mean a lot to you, or that they are doing well. Sometimes, the most difficult person to say such things to is ourselves… whatever the case, don’t let it go unsaid.
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