the Listener…

I finally raised my hand, after years. 

I wiped my sweaty palms on my jeans.

I looked up.

I saw what felt like a million pair of eyes on me.

Did they want to hear what I was going to say?

I spoke anyway.

Even as the silence fell and I could only hear me.

That’s when I learnt that what I had to say would make a difference to the discussion.

And how much better I had felt for being heard.