Search of Silence

Most others she knew listened to music. They listened to it everywhere they went - providing their lives with a soundtrack. She had no soundtrack. She rarely listened to music because there was not a fashion in which it spoke to her that necessitated the dependency on it.

That's what she liked to think.

The truth was that her constant inner dialogue wouldn't shut up long enough to appreciate it. It was loud, incessant and rather opinionated. Giving her little opportunity, she rarely listened to the world around her - only that what was inside of her.

This morning, however, she stopped. She shut up. She listened to the quiet.

Listening closely, silence was not actually silent at all. Perhaps a fact that she knew once but long ago forgot. In the quiet, she found the hum of Earth. She could hear it and was quite certain even in the absence of electronics, cars and the wind, she would hear it vibrating in her ears. Thinking the noise of silence is what the science community calls "Earth's Chorus," she could only call it "company."

They say that darkness is the absence of light. Logically, silence is the absence of sound. Endlessly hearing Earth's Chorus in the quiet, she wondered... where could she find it? Certainly not here, not on Earth. If she couldn't find it, she'd bring it to her. Her ears. Without them, she could find silence.

Her hands would not block the sound. Pillows wouldn't either.

Van Gogh came to mind. Cutting off one's ear didn't seem so outrageous. But that surely wouldn't keep out the sound. Her eardrums held the key. There she could find silence. One's ears. They are not so necessary.

"No, no. I don't think I need them."

Aloud. She heard. I don't need my ears.

Where did this stream of consciousness come from?! This inner dialogue just will not stop. Even in the quiet it goes on. Perhaps this narrative; this ambling narrative is her soundtrack.

Night Story

Tonight, it returned. On the summer air, the evening beckoned me to explore the night wind. My white cotton sheets gathered around me as I sat up to peek out of my curtains to the wonderland before me.  A shimmering full moon above the nearby forest made everything glow with an ethereal illumination. The air became thick with the anticipation of my participation in the awaiting world.

Slipping out of bed, I followed the dim glow of moonlight flooding my bedroom window. The moon hung high and full in the sky – plopped amidst a sea of silvery stars. They seemed to ripple in endless circles around it. My arms reached to lift the heavy wooden frame. My fingers slipped on it bringing peels of white crackling paint with them. My lavender nail polish chipped on the aged wood. Sighing and grasping firmer, I heaved the stubborn frame up until it came to a grinding halt.

A gust of cool breeze rushed in, encircling me in the center of the bedroom. Twirling at the center it, I raised my arms, tilted my head toward the ceiling and contentedly inhaled its sweet splendor. I was entranced, helpless at its beckoning.

A soft glimmer glided past the open window, followed by a sparkling parade of light. The trickling stream began to swirl in figure eights around my tiny, enchanted bedroom. The glimmering orbs quickly fell into the revolving current of air gently twisting around me. It was a fanfare of fireflies, and I was the delighted core. My milky white nightgown spun around me like a Victorian party dress in my clandestine dance. Then a whisper softly floated to my ear.

Photo by me, 2010. Please request permission before using.

“Come and stay with us,” a firefly quietly coaxed.

“Not tonight,” I returned.

On cue, the firefly parade floated to various places amidst the darkening room as though they were always there like white Christmas lights hiding beneath a freshly fallen snow. They led a path back to my lonely bed. Hovering along my window sill, headboard, shelves and ceiling, the creatures stayed, magically suspending themselves in air and time.

“I will though,” I promised, and soon, I did.

Apple Dates: Part III

“Where should we go on our Apple Date today, Lil Bit?”

“Umm… I like the meadow! Can we go to the meadow today, Mommy?”

I nod and smile. The meadow is one of my favorite Apple Date spots.

“Really? We can go to the meadow! Yay!” Collin grins with his wide eyes.

The meadow is special. It’s the setting of so many of my childhood drawings – rolling hills, fluffy clouds, trees full of apples and of course, always, two familiar people.

I don’t have to draw my meadow anymore though. Dad and I found this one, and planted our apple trees here together. They’re all fully grown now – much like me. Dad and I planted these so that we’ll always have Apple Dates and so will Collin. He’ll find out about that today.

“Are you ready, Collin? It’s a green apple day.”