Write a new post in response to today’s one-word prompt.
(Start the video before you read )
You do understand, of course, that there is a difference between profound silence, where there is no noise at all, and the silence of no intrusive, unpleasant noises.
I long for the silence of no intrusive, unpleasant noise. No sirens screaming by and making you wonder what tragedy is taking place. No horrible booming and angry ranting from cars that sit behind you in traffic. No police sirens aimed–oh no! at YOU! No arguing, no wailing infants or toddlers. No yelling adults, cursing each other and creating ugly air.
Pleasant noise? Well, that would be children laughing and screaming in play; that would be the sound of the ocean; it would be the wonderful susurrus of a steady rain after a drought. Pleasant noise is good music, played at top volume if I’m home alone, but reduced to a whisper if Terry is with me. We both have trouble hearing each other if other noises are in the background.
I love the sounds of a forest. Sometimes it is so still you can hear the trees breathe. It is wonderful to hear the skittering of small animals that you know are harmless. Bird song is a delight, no matter where it comes from. And I’ve always enjoyed the sound of a small river moving over small rocks. Any sound made by water is a good sound, unless it’s a tsunami or a rushing flood. Then it’s terrifying.
Utter, complete silence is hard to come by. Even when no one else is in the house and I have no music playing, no television, there is the intermittent noise of the refrigerator, the air conditioning or heating, and the homey sounds of a house settling with age like an old lady getting comfortable in her favorite chair.
Actually, I think utter, dead silence might be kind of frightening. Where there is that kind of silence, there is no life. None. Brrrrr.