Sounds

I like to hear my dog growl when he's pretending to be fierce.  I like to hear a cat's contented purr.  The tweets and chirps of the birds, even the mocking laugh of the gulls, make me smile.  Chipmunk and squirrel chatter bring me unspeakable joy.

I grew up a block from the train tracks.  They were busier back then, and I would fall asleep to the sounds of train whistles and blasts from their horns.  The rumble was comforting and familiar.  When I moved away I couldn't sleep for the longest time.  Then one night, when the wind was just right, I heard the sound again.  Instantly I was swept into dreamland.  Today the tracks are a mile away in either direction, but if the wind is perfect, the sound still lulls me to sleep.

When I sit by the lake I hear the geese high above me and the ships as they make their way through the channel.  I block out the whining children, the blabbering teens, the arguing adults.  I hear only the sounds I wish to hear.

At home there are the everyday sounds of water running, the phone ringing, the knock at the door. Some of it is noise, but amongst the noise I hear the wind, the rain on the window, the crunch-crunch of the leaves as the mailman walks by.  Comforting sounds. Familiar, safe sounds--like the voice of a loved one in your ear.

We take for granted the everyday sounds, don't we?

For more years than I choose to remember, my workday was filled with Muzak, the rattle and clang of shopping carts, a PA system that blatted commercial over its airways, the endless prattle of shoppers and staff. It was noise, that's all.  I had to learn to push away the noise and to hear only the sounds.

Today at work I hear the fan as it attempts to freshen the stale apartment air.  I hear the sneaking footsteps of the cat, the rustle of the bag she plays with. I hear someone in the hall, the squeak of the door.  It's noise, just quieter noise if that makes any sense to you.  There is nothing familiar, nothing comforting about it. Nothing personal.

I need a hug.  I need sweet nothings in my ear.  I need to hear my big, hairy dog trying to be fierce.

I need to hear the trains.