The empty woods were full of small sounds.  The unending rows of towering pines groaned and creaked as the wind whispered through its tops.  My footfalls were silent on the blanket of needles as I hiked alone through the woods.  Pine gave way to hardwoods as I climbed the gentle slope of the small mountain, soon standing solitary atop the forested peak.

A still breeze quietly roared while the waves churned over the rocks and sighed up the sand at the silent lake.  All the camps were boarded up, their owners off to warmer houses and fall obligations.  The summer sun and vacation exploits now a memory.  I stand in the wind exulting in the loud silence and full solitude.

The house is still with only the quiet hum of a dutiful appliance and the crackle of the woodstove.  The children away at activities and nothing to interrupt the quiet of an empty room.  I listen intently to the silence and breathe deeply in the peace of the moment, alone with my thoughts.

I love people and treasure relationships, finding great joy and fulfillment in connections and friendships.  I relish my children, celebrating family and friends.  I love the bustle of a busy Sunday morning as well as the joy of summer activities.

Yet I find the silence of solitude to be a sweet and wondrous experience.  It is both made sweeter by the time with people before, and enriches future times of fellowship by recharging my heart and mind, preparing me to once again invest life in others.

Being alone is not a retreat from others, nor an experience of absence, but instead, a fulfillment of those experiences by giving me room to reflect, to listen to the quiet, and to fully enjoy the fullness of nature and time.