Deafening Silence

With fans, compressors, dogs, a crotchety 16 year old cat, a telephone and children, one would think my house would never be quiet.

You are officially on ignore.

Some sounds I never hear:

The chirping of the fire alarms. No, the batteries are not dead. They are wired directly into the house. No, I do not know how to make them be quiet. Yes, they pass the monthly test. Yes, I can ignore it every 1.5 minutes (more than one beeping).

The neighbor's hounds (English bulldogs) barking at my hounds (Tennessee treeing coonhounds).

Snoring, despite species. Except for my parents (Sorry, Momma & Poppa.), snoring is a background noise to which I accomplish much, including slumber.

Trains and F-16s. We live one-quarter mile from a terrorist training target for a nearby Air Force base. No less than 15 fighters fly over the house each week. The only time a train wakes me is when it is late, and I do not hear it...freight train or subway.

The sound of little feet jumping on the bed.

Rip the knob off!

Some sounds enter my ear at a volume which would wake the dead:

A baby belch, cough, rolling over or kicking in a crib across the house with the doors all closed between us.

Apnea: Canine, feline or human. From a dead sleep (every time my eyes close), I am sitting up in the bed or staggering to the correct room to place my hand on someone's chest.

The sound of little feet hitting the floor in the middle of the night.

Silence is not golden.

Since my retirement, I have grown used to talking to Russell all day long. If he was at work, he used all our minutes to talk to me. Once he retired, we talked in person.

If you would have asked me ten years ago, I would have wished for a day like yesterday. The children were home from school (spring break) and one of my spotted dogs was in the house.

All through the house, not a creature was stirring. Cash was holding down the couch. The children were "camping" in the center of the floor on a brown blanket (island) surrounded by blue ones (water). Russell was sleeping so well, even Mr. Saw Mill was not snoring.

I took advantage:

• Eight loads of laundry
• Load of dishes
• Chili con queso
• Appliance cleaning
• Shoveled evidence of children
• Vacuuming
• Carpet shampooing
• Paying the last bill this month
• Trash collecting
• Video games
• Email catch up
• Lesson plans
• Career Day planning

So, for what do I possibly have to complain? No feedback. How lonely it is to float through a full day without speaking to another human, and in my case especially another adult human.

At least I could come in their rooms and see them to ensure they were still here.

To quote Momma, "Be careful what you ask for because you just might get it." I realize now how much the 47 telephone calls per day and hearing "Mommaaaaaaaaaaaa" twice as often was not half as annoying as I thought it was.

Now, I can tell you verbatim the last conversations Russell and I have had. Just as I would never dream of letting him walk out the door or get off of the telephone without hearing me say, "I love you," he will not close his eyes to rest without hearing it.

The Leprechaun was here.

The gold here is words will not be left unspoken, which happens to be a good practice regardless of health, distance or attitude.

Chin up,
Ann Marie

Photo Credit: Russell and Ann Marie's dog Cashisti (Cash) in South Carolina, 2009.

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