Just Listening

Sometimes I just listen to the quiet. Listening to just under the quiet to all the little sounds that make the hum of background. I break them up, separate them until I hear everything.

Traffic from the main road. If no one is honking, I close my eyes and pretend it's the ocean.
A neighbor is sawing? Raking? Something yardy.
Birds are singing. Lovely calls to one another creating layers of song.
The bubbles in my soda water burst against the sides of the can. A soft, crackly ping.
Traffic is the loudest. The most varied in levels of sound. Motorcycle noises because it's a nice day.
Refrigerator humming, ice machine groaning, laptop breathing softly.


The Fella's chair creaks from downstairs.

I see the wind first. Staring out the dining room window the neighbor's evergreen waves to me. Then I hear it. Sounds like the cars at first and then it builds and I can tell...Those are my trees roaring quietly.

My wind chimes join in. The wooden one from the beach is barely hanging on but I can hear it. Sounds like the docks from when I was a kid.  The tiny chime from a friend a long time ago.  And then the wind dies.

A crow starts screaming. It's caw mingles with a helicopter. A military bird. For a moment the world sounds angry. A dog barks one time. The chop chop chop fades into the city and the crow quiets. The other birds sing again.

Another dog bark. It's the dachshund two doors down and I can instantly picture the little shit strutting down the middle of the street like he owns it. Makes me nervous when he does that.

The yardy guy has started using a weed eater. whirrrrrr whirrrrrr-rrrrrr-rrrrr whirrrrr-rr  Sounds of summer in April. I can't tell where it's coming from-sounds like everywhere. He must be close by. It's not entirely unpleasant but it's louder than the quiet from before.

The Fella's glasses being set on the desk. Water running, splashing in the sink. He yawns--loud like a child and then I hear him come up the stairs. His feet on the carpet, slippers scuffling. He touches my back on the way to the kitchen. I hear him toss ice into a glass. The pop fizz from a can of soda, liquid being poured and then the hollow clink as the can is set down onto the counter. A pause and then his feet move towards the doorway. He must have picked the can up because he's crushing it now and then tossing it into the bin.

I am listening to him. I know exactly what the sound is from, yet I jump.

"Will it bother you if I watch television?"

I smile, "Nope. I'm almost done."

He touches my back again as he passes behind me.

Leslie Knope starts squeaking.

Sometimes I just listen to the sound of home. Listening to just under the hum of background to all the little sounds that make it home.