For everyone who ever wondered if somebody was there.

Maybe there was a night when you were little.

The house was quiet.

You could hear things moving outside.

Maybe you stared at the doorway,

wishing someone would come in.

And sit beside you.

Just for a while.

I wonder where I was that night.

Maybe I was awake too.

Maybe I had left a little light on.

Maybe I was wishing there was someone beside me.

Someone who wouldn't mind if I didn't say anything.

Someone who just wanted to stay.

Maybe there was a day when everyone around you seemed to have someone.

Someone to sit with.

Someone to laugh with.

Someone who looked around to see where they were.

And maybe you wondered what it would feel like

if somebody was looking for you.

I think I've felt that.

Being in a room full of people.

Smiling.

Laughing.

And somehow feeling very far away.

I wonder if we were ever in rooms like that at the same time.

Maybe even the same room.

Maybe something wonderful happened to you once.

Something you couldn't wait to tell someone.

But when you looked around, you weren't sure who would want to hear.

I remember that kind of quiet.

Having something I wanted to share.

And wishing there was someone who would be just as happy as I was.

And maybe there were days when things went wrong.

When you said you were fine,

because you didn't know how to explain that you weren't.

I've said that too.

Sometimes I wished someone would ask again.

And sometimes I was afraid they would.

I wonder if you ever felt that way too.

I was here. You were here. If only we'd known.

Maybe there was a day you sat on a step outside a crowded place.

The door kept opening.

People came and went, calling each other's names.

Maybe you stayed a little longer than you needed to,

just to be near those voices.

I wonder if I was sitting on some other step that day.

I remember seeing someone sitting alone at the end of a bench.

I almost said hello.

But what if they wanted to be alone?

What if I was an interruption they didn't need?

I walked on.

And afterward, I wondered

whether they had been hoping someone would stop.

Maybe you've walked past someone like that too.

And maybe there were nights when you held your phone,

looking at the names.

Wondering who you could call.

Who might understand.

Who wouldn't mind hearing your voice.

I wonder how many times I held my phone that way too.

How strange.

All those people. All those names.

And still wondering who might want to hear from us.

Maybe you wished someone would call.

Maybe I did too.

Maybe, somewhere, there were thousands of people wishing the same thing.

People we passed on the street.

People behind windows with their lights still on.

People who had so much love to give,

and no idea who might need it.

I was here. You were here. If only we'd known.

Something just occurred to me.

What if, on one of those nights when you wished someone would come,

I was wishing there was somewhere I could go?

What if, while you were hoping someone would listen,

I was hoping there was someone I could talk to?

What if we were both wishing for each other

without knowing who the other was?

I don't know where you were.

And you don't know where I was.

But I know how I feel about you now.

And I can't help wondering...

If I had known you were afraid,

would I have called?

I think I would have.

And if you'd known I was afraid,

I wonder if you would have called me too.

Maybe we would have talked for a long time.

Maybe we wouldn't have said much at all.

Maybe one of us would have cried.

Maybe the other would have started laughing.

And then we both would have.

I wonder who would have felt better.

Maybe neither of us would have known.

Maybe we both would have.

And now I wonder...

How many times did we believe there was nobody there,

when somewhere there was someone who would have been so glad to hear from us?

Someone who didn't need to have all the answers.

Someone who might have been just as frightened.

Someone who might have said,

I'm glad you called.

And meant it.

And then, one day, there you were.

We were sitting at a table.

One of us asked,

Can I tell you something?

The other answered,

Please.

I remember how we both leaned in.

And how neither of us hurried away.

I wonder how many times we'd wished for something like this.

What if, when you wished someone would answer, someone was wishing you would call?

And now, some nights, I still hold my phone, looking at names.

But the other night, I found yours.

I pressed call.

It rang.

You answered.

Hi, I said.

Hi, you said.

For a moment, neither of us had much to say.

But the silence wasn't lonely.

Next time, maybe you'll call me.

I was here. You were here. If only we'd known.

I'm here. You're here. And now we know.