silence

No phone. No cohorts with whom to converse. No boats or the mosquito buzz of jet skis. Just quiet, peace and quiet. The water slipping past my board and a far off dog or two were the only sounds on my lake this quiet beautiful morning. After I reached my destination a little farther down the rocky coast, I set down my paddle and stretched out like a cat enjoying the warm fall sun. Floating and day dreaming my morning away was as close to heaven as I could imagine. My two boys were right where they were supposed to be and I had nothing on today's agenda other then my nemesis the grocery store. Procrastinating, maybe, but then it was my day off so there I lie, not moving a muscle. It's funny, as I grow older, this appreciation for absolute silence. I suppose all those days working in the din of a busy restaurant with pans and plates clanging and banging around me had something to do with it. All that chatter from coworkers and customers alike. Then I had a child. A child spends the first year crying and screaming and we had our ears glued to the baby monitor for every sound. To this day the sight of those walkie talkie monitors make me cringe. Nothing like being in a deep deep sleep only to be awakened by an infant's yell. Nervous was how I spent that first year. As a child grows we are introduced to a whole new bevy/cacophony of sounds. My child especially liked to "yodel" this very high pitched singing akin to the Vienna Boys Choir. He is also a talker, like his mama his dad would say. There are also numerous burps and farts. Admittedly I love a good loud burp or fart so I guess there again he is like his mama. I also have a revolving door of neighbors that take over the double rental next door. A constant barrage of yelling and swearing by a lowly sort. Not to mention the constant cars coming and going from the rental across the street. So yes this is just life. Daily percussion. It could be worse. It could be gunfire or bombing or screams of anguish, but these screams are just for one of the many children next door. I'm sure I've even contributed to these daily sounds being that I have a loud voice. Again I attribute it to yelling over people and noise from those restaurant years. Quick aside, prime example, as I sit at my counter writing, my little man feels the need to bang and scrape the plate across the bottom of our porcelain sink. No reason, just clang, clang, scrape, scrape, ugh, just put it in the dishwater. So you see, I have a low tolerance for noise or I should say, I have developed a low tolerance for noise. Years of migraines have also attributed to this being that every little sound makes me cringe in pain. I also have spent the past 20 years talking, a lot. Unavoidable in my careers of choice. Now, in my defense, I know I sound a bit like an old curmudgeon. In fact, I sound a bit like my father. Growing up, the first thing my dad would say upon entering a room where the t.v. was on was, "Can we turn this down a bit?" Every day, like clockwork. So I suppose a bit of that has rubbed off as well, I mean it IS genetics and we do turn into our parents no matter how hard we fight it. Now I am not so rigid as to not crank up the bass in the car or turn up a good song. I also love music while I'm working. Anything from sexy Lana del Ray to Billie Holiday. I especially appreciate the louder, raucous early years of Modest Mouse. As for my morning, I'd like to say I carried that sense of absolute calm throughout my day, but alas the total of this week's groceries had me quickly sliding into a slump. From peaceful to frustrated. Oh well, it worked for a little while. Life is all around us, loud and nasty, messy and chaotic. Finding the time to block it out for even a little while can be positively restorative unless, of course, you end up spending all your earnings on groceries that is. Good night world.