There is a peculiar type of silence.
It is the quiet that happens after noise departs.
It can be welcome, a relief.
The streets after a riot.
The dictionary says that peculiar means 'exclusively belonging to ..'
It says that silence means 'the absence of sound.'
So there is a peculiar kind of silence.
That happens, each year, at our house.
Suddenly the noise of joy.
The explosions of laughter.
The ripping of wrapping paper.
The jokes over dinner.
Suddenly the noise of comfort and closeness.
Of people happy.
Stop.
With the closing of the door.
And we sit.
In our chairs.
Listening to that very peculiar silence.
That tells us that we are loved.
1 comment:
Maybe that peculiar silence is when memories are made, transformed from the immediate experience into something that the brain/psyche holds onto and can retrieve, something that changes you.
And then there is often a nap!
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