I don’t. I close my eyes and send up a prayer for wisdom, and breathe deeply. This is where I am supposed to be, and I accept it. Perhaps it is a sign that he won’t always be talking, that he can hold his peace, that he’s thoughtful. If he isn’t nervous, I become intrigued, captivated by that unbroken silence into a wonderment about his mental gyrations.
Peace. What a blessed change from the ordinary creature, constantly seeking my attention, my approval. He must be really something, this quiet man.
Hmm… his eyes are closed too – in despair? or simply, as I have done, seeking guidance in the act of a breath: a prayer?