"I am unsure what to make of your silence."

 

Huh? I thought I had answered her text. But when I went to respond I realized that I had neglected to click on send. I tried to reassure her, but sadly she had already spent a couple of days wondering. Imagining, probably. 

 

I checked in with a woman who was considering being part of the mentoring program. She said that she had already told me no thanks. I apologized for missing that message. A minute later she said that she had accidentally sent her regrets to someone else. 

 

Many of us are flinging hastily composed conversations through the air at the speed of sound. Or light. I am not quite sure what the conduit for such missives actually is. But it is a few levels away from the curvy handwritten letters that were pressed closed by a blob of sealing wax, validated by a stamp that you licked with your tongue, and carried in a crowded pouch by a postman. Those took more time to create, so there were fewer of them. Is it to our benefit that we are juggling multiple threads on several devices at once? Does quantity make up for hustle?

 

When I am composing an email, simultaneously being interrupted by the ding of my phone alerting me to activity on other platforms, while dedicating a slender slice of my attention to Benjamin who is reminding me about Cruella de Vil wanting to steal puppies, my attention is thinned. I am not convinced that this is bad, but neither can I say with conviction that it is good. 

 

There are days when I want John to talk to me, and he doesn't, or other times when he chatters while my focus is elsewhere. 

 

It all reminds me to offer a dollop of grace when someone's communication with me does not align with what I expected. Maybe they are splintering their limited mental bandwidth between several worthy people, and if I am going to be making up reasons anyway they may as well be generous.