Dear Noise

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shhSilence may be golden. Noise may not be what you think.

Dear Noise,

For years, you were banished to the outer limits of my attention. Parents focused homework by reducing you to nothingness. Friends cornered attention by dropping you beneath the decibel level of a whisper. Mates sealed moments into memory by being certain their sounds drown you out. Children demanded you move out when they entered the world under the auspices they needed sleep to grow.

None of them could see you really were music to my ears.

The sound of the train which signaled the middle of my night. No matter how it disturbed others, it centered my dreams so they could end on time.

grandfather clockThe ticking in the hall. Even with the chime turned off for the night, the ticking was a steady reminder the future was en route.

The calliope. Regardless of how old I get and the rides my doctor wishes I would not ride, the calliope is the reminder of innocent laughter enjoying imagination in the safety of a circle.

Leather squeak. When the tack room reeked of saddle soap, I longed for the noonday sun. That squeak timed so perfectly with the hoof beats and the rustle of dried leaves.

A miss. Everyone can appreciate the shine of a perfect paint job. I can appreciate the history conveyed in the barely discernible engine miss.

Where the world seeks to strip the noise from itself to enjoy the orchestrated noise of media, I seek to hear you reverberate in the background. You are the reminder of simpler times, innocence, purity, love, happiness.

I will keep an ear out for you.

Red Signature


Which noises remind you?

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4 Comments

  1. Interesting. It’s those man-made media cacaphonies that I classify as “noise.” Those nice things you mention above and similar ones that evoke peace, pleasant memories, and promise, to me are sounds.

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  2. A dropped plate smashed on the floor, children yelling and squabbling, bare running feet, the splash of bathwater on the floor all remind me of my siblings and my youth.

    I had but one daughter. We didn’t have enough sound: thumping up the stairs, singing at the top of her lungs, buttocks sliding in enamel bathtub and giggles. Always giggles.
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