The words of the prophets are written on the subway walls
All I can hear is the trickle of the fish tank, the hum of the computer and my typing.
There is no child upstairs “singing my life with his words” at the top of his lungs.*
There is no television playing behind me.
There are no dishes washing and no music playing ever so quietly through headphones that I’m not supposed to hear.
Only the blissful sound of silence.
I love this.
I can write 500 assignments on geo-economy and local governments in this atmosphere.
I remember sitting in the front seat on a ski trip one winter. The rest of the team was quiet and it was only my coach and I traveling down a small highway with snow shooting straight at the windshield in small white pins. The rest of the world was completely blank and void of life.
It was so peaceful. I remember telling my coach that night that I didn’t really want to be a racer but that I prefered to live in a cabin, in the middle of a forest, totally isolated.
My coach was surprised at this – not that I didn’t want to be a racer (he had mentioned a year earlier that I analyzed things too much to really let my skies go), but that I wanted to live in silence.
People who meet me assume that I like action. I suppose, when placed in a hectic situation, I tend to get excited like the rest of the adrenalin junkies out there. However, silence is heaven. Silence gives me the space to think the thoughts that are yelling at me on the inside. It also gives me the focus to get things done. Silence is… golden.
This is why you will get emails from me at 3 in the morning and comments on your blog at 4. I need silence.
This isn’t a Mom thing.
* I’ve been singing a little Roberta Flack to him before bed these days. “Hush Little Baby” was gettin to me, man. There are only so many mocking birds and dogs that don’t bark that I can take in a lifetime.