“But hour by hour, day by day, life becomes possible.” (Sylvia Plath)
When I was a little girl, my mother and I used to share thoughts on the train that went by our home, from some distance, on a daily basis. We would often speculate whether the people on the train were comfortable as mom usually commented that the train sounded cold.
I love the traffic sounds I hear from my bedroom at night. They are comforting to me and remind me that I am not alone, that others are up and perhaps traveling great distances. If they are moving forward then I can too and all must be well with the world.
Last evening before going off to bed, we heard the voices of our neighbors, talking and planning. It was such a clear, beautiful evening I too found it hard to leave my frame with only the velvety darkness gently pushing me inside.
This morning it is our neighbor John’s truck starting up that begins a new day. He is a busy man and puts me in mind of my former Athol neighbor Russell, who was always moving forward, at a very determined pace, through his day.
Sounds. I have come to adore listening to the sounds of my surroundings before sleep. It’s a grounding experience. How different from the early months of grieving, when I had to shut the world out at night by playing Vivaldi, a suggestion, an excellent one by the way, from an experienced griever.
Listening to the sounds from the outside world gives me the courage to listen to the sounds from within. It doesn’t hurt like it used to, and I can linger awhile.
It’s like waiting for the kettle to boil to make a sensuous carafe of cinnamon coffee versus pushing the button for an instant cup. Or folding each piece of wool for my new work space instead of stuffing into a plastic tote.
Its breathing without hiccups.
These sounds from within are encouraging me to do things; things that I am not even totally aware of yet but continue to shape up in the back of my mind. Perhaps it’s things that were always there but are somehow easier to do now, like writing, for example.
It involves unclogging our own bathroom sink drains and traveling to places as one or in a pair instead of three. It’s also related to a new hairstyle that reminds me of someone I used to know with the mere insertion of a well place bobby pin.
Over the last couple of days I have been blessed with the company of some wonderful, strong women. Casual, drop- in- style of visits, that enhanced the flow of my day, simply because they chose to be with me.
They strengthened that voice within and made me realize this new path, this road I was fighting against taking, is manageable and all too often, enjoyable.
Sounds: crows, highway, beating heart, silence.
May your day be as blessed as mine already has been.
M.
