Sounds

A couple of months ago, I moved my laptop up to the computer room on the second floor. Now when I look up from my screen, I see the wall, and the messy pile of papers and electronic paraphernalia stacked askew against it. It's not a pretty sight so I tune it out. But my hearing has sharpened. I hear every little sound in the house, out in the street, and up in the sky.

Right now for example, the garbage truck just came rumbling and tumbling down the street. I try to figure what kind of garbage the truck is picking up by the noises it makes. Ah, but it's not picking up any garbage because I don't hear the stop and go banging and crashing of garbage bins being emptied or the grunting and grinding of the truck as it lurches forward house by house. It just drove on through to another street.

The furnace and my laptop enclose me in white noise, punctuated by occasional voices from outside. I wonder if those passersby know they are talking so loudly that I can hear them from the second floor at the back of the house.

A few weeks ago, when I stayed with my mother-in-law, I laid in bed listening for Port Hope sounds. The furnace whooshed on now and then, she had the TV on loud, and occasionally, a car passed by outside. But those became background noises to the distinct Port Hope sounds at night.

Far off, a train rumbled by once in a while and cried that forlorn wail of the train whistle. But the wind coaxed the stillness to return by whispering sh...sh...sh... and you were lulled into sleepiness, adrift in a quiet state of neither nor. Until a constant buzzing nudged and nudged you. In semi-awakeness, you heard someone snoring. You came to, the snoring stopped. And in sheepish discomfort, you realized that was you snoring. I mean, that was me snoring.

In December, Lake Ontario had not frozen over yet. When I walked along the water front trail, I could still hear the soft, clear trickle of lapping water. I walked further along was surprised to see the lake at my feet. The sound of the lapping water calmed and refreshed me. I drank the sound in; I hadn't realized my soul was parched.

Now the phone rings downstairs, interrupting my meandering thoughts. I must silence that twittering, the ring tone on my phone, then tend to my day. The Boy will come home soon with his friends.