I’m trying to cast back the last time that I had true silence. It seems that there’s always some sort of din happening. Fingers clacking on keys and tiny fans whirring inside my computer, off in the distance. People talking in the office right next to mine. Street Traffic. Rain. The Air conditioner. Birds. Chairs and doors creaking. Wind Chimes, and a stray branch rubbing against the screen of my window. Telephones bells, and the faint buzz of picture tubes and electric lights. The clack and smack of bare feet on tile floors. The compressor of the fridge. Cat clucking at the window to the squirrels outside, or the scratching of paws at work in the litter box’s sand. Thunder in the distance.
I’m trying to recall the last time I heard the sounds of my body doing its job. The rush of blood pumping through the veins in my ears, or the slight click of tendon against muscle inside my neck as I turn my head. I can’t be sure of the last time I heard my stomach rumble, or my knuckles crack. The internal “squinch” of saliva production, right before opening my mouth wide enough to brush my teeth, and the “chooching” sounds that follow afterwards. The faint thunk of a seal formed when you close your eyes.
Maybe it’s because I’m craving a nap, or maybe it’s because there’s a good amount of noise and hubbub these days. I just want to hear the sounds of myself, and of loved ones nearby as I rest. There’s a very real comfort in the loud rumble of Newt’s purr while he lays at my throat or listening to breaths taken in a home that’s otherwise silent.
I can’t remember the last time that things were so quiet that my ears rung.