Sunday, March 15, 2009

It's a blustery night and the wind is unsteady as it can sometimes be in these last, volatile days of winter. My garage door squeaks where the metal of the hinges rub together where they meet in the middle. Strangely enough, it's a soothing sound to me on nights like this. The house is still warm from the fresh memories of my boys and I horseplaying around in the front room. The fire crackles quietly behind the glowing glass of the woodstove door and the fridge is humming in the kitchen, still trying to recuperate from the seemingly endless series of opens and closes that happen when three boys--two still growing--invade it's privacy.

Sunday nights used to be the hardest for me to bear; the sudden hush after a two-day barrage of noise and frenetic energy. But now the quiet, while not quite longed for, is the accompaniment music to my reflective thoughts.

I am blessed to have the knowledge of quiet and the love of two amazing boys.


Cheryl said...

Nice when you can enjoy that peace.

Although I'd probably have to get a little WD-40 on those hinges. :)

Lori said...

I can picture this perfectly. And there is something soothing in the familiarity of a sound associated with the wind. Mine is the tin on top of the sheep shed that rattles in the wind. Something about it is comforting; a melodic sound instead of an annoying one.

(I'll be dismantling the rest of it soon, however so I'll have to find a new 'wind sound'!)

Ame said...

the extremes ... can be so unsettling. suddenly full of sound; suddenly full of vacant ... like a vacuum in space. finding places where it becomes a setting and not a dread ... a result of many experiences ... and wisdom gained over time. and appreciation for the echos of voices still lingering from the front room.