After Labor Day
What a lovely three day weekend.
But now it is Tuesday and you are back at work. The house feels so hushed. You are one person, but you are a rather noisy one. You've never liked silence. You turn on your jazz when you work, outside or in. Or listen to CNN. You say you like company. That silence makes you feel sad. So, I have grown accustomed to noise when you are around. Even the preparation of dinner is a maze of sound. Listening to The Nutcracker is strange in September, though, don't you think?
No, you say. The Nutcracker is beautiful year round. Especially, the Waltz of the Flowers. When I say that I prefer the Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy, you nod.
It's everyone's favorite, you say. And continue chopping the tomatoes for our sandwiches.
The weekend is just....sound. I tire of it, retreat to the bedroom to rest with a book. However, I like hearing it in the background.
I realize that this is what I am missing now that you are at work. Your background noise. The knowledge that you are nearby.
I like your presence. Like your busy sounds. Rustling papers. The weed whacker. The lawn mower. The shovel scooping up all the hawthorne berries from the driveway. The faint sounds of CNN or the rubber band snapping sounds of jazz seeping out.
Now, you are at work and the house is completely silent. I awaken around 8, vaguely remembering a kiss on my forehead as you left around 6:30. The house is completely silent.
Too silent. I have a strong dislike for mornings. Everything hurts in the morning. My fingers struggle to hold the toothbrush, the spoon for the yogurt. I listlessly turn the pages of my book. Finally, I turn on the television and see that Garden State is on, an old favorite. I watch for a few minutes and then lose interest.
What I am missing is the sound of you. I am getting cantankerous in my old age, yes? When you are home, I feel bombarded by noise. When you are gone, I feel the intense loneliness of silence.
I will sit outside for a while. Maybe the birdsong will help.
But now it is Tuesday and you are back at work. The house feels so hushed. You are one person, but you are a rather noisy one. You've never liked silence. You turn on your jazz when you work, outside or in. Or listen to CNN. You say you like company. That silence makes you feel sad. So, I have grown accustomed to noise when you are around. Even the preparation of dinner is a maze of sound. Listening to The Nutcracker is strange in September, though, don't you think?
No, you say. The Nutcracker is beautiful year round. Especially, the Waltz of the Flowers. When I say that I prefer the Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy, you nod.
It's everyone's favorite, you say. And continue chopping the tomatoes for our sandwiches.
The weekend is just....sound. I tire of it, retreat to the bedroom to rest with a book. However, I like hearing it in the background.
I realize that this is what I am missing now that you are at work. Your background noise. The knowledge that you are nearby.
I like your presence. Like your busy sounds. Rustling papers. The weed whacker. The lawn mower. The shovel scooping up all the hawthorne berries from the driveway. The faint sounds of CNN or the rubber band snapping sounds of jazz seeping out.
Now, you are at work and the house is completely silent. I awaken around 8, vaguely remembering a kiss on my forehead as you left around 6:30. The house is completely silent.
Too silent. I have a strong dislike for mornings. Everything hurts in the morning. My fingers struggle to hold the toothbrush, the spoon for the yogurt. I listlessly turn the pages of my book. Finally, I turn on the television and see that Garden State is on, an old favorite. I watch for a few minutes and then lose interest.
What I am missing is the sound of you. I am getting cantankerous in my old age, yes? When you are home, I feel bombarded by noise. When you are gone, I feel the intense loneliness of silence.
I will sit outside for a while. Maybe the birdsong will help.
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