In my mind, Phil has always been a quiet guy. I first met him back in the 2010s when our families shared a hockey practice carpool. I might be able to count on two hands the total number of words he said to me that season, outside of “Thanks for the ride.”

Sometimes quiet can be a little intimidating. It can be mistaken for empty space that needs to be filled. But there are times, places, and situations for quiet. Some people feel more relaxed and more at peace when they are not obligated to make noise. Quiet is not a void. One might say that it is a freedom from noise. But that doesn’t mean it says nothing. In fact, it speaks volumes if you just listen.

When my kids were little, one of my favorite books to read to them was The Quiet Book by Deborah Underwood. It’s a brilliantly illustrated work that lists many different kinds of quiet, all very relatable to children and adults alike. The words and pictures have a very soothing effect even on the pages where you can feel energy growing. The quiet can be heard and is palpable. I get a similar feeling when I look at these photographs of Phil.

During his session, Phil didn’t talk a lot. He remained as polite as ever while owning an air of excitement and anticipation. He approached the end of his senior year and the beginning of the next stage of his life with confidence. His expressions are all his own and completely fitting with his personality. He has accomplished so much, including a miraculous recovery from a life-threatening injury just a few years ago. (That is his story to tell, if he wants to talk about it.) It was clear he was looking forward to new adventures–even though he didn’t actually say so.