The sounds of home
If I’d never hear them again, I would miss all the ambient sounds that make me feel like I am home. The sounds that make me feel comfortable, at ease, like I am in a trusted place, surrounded by love and warmth and well-being. I would miss sounds like voices of loved ones, talking in the living room while I am buried in one of my books. I would miss the laughter three levels down, drifting upward through the stairwell and my plywood door, ensuring my housemates are home, and happy. I would miss insects buzzing and chirping whenever I am outside, and birds singing, letting me know green space, and blue space, and nature is close to my body. A woodpecker knocking its tell-tale wood pecked nest into the hollow of a tree, the cooing of city doves, the nature ingrained in all spaces, whether rural or urban. I would miss listening to the comfort of nature close by.
I would miss the sound of wind rushing through leaves, on a calm summer day, or a windy autumn day, or a stormy winter one. I would miss the wind speaking about the seasons, and the weather, and impending change. I would miss hearing the warmth of a crackling fire in the hearth, and the curling wafts of hot chocolate milk drifting. I would miss those sounds that make me remember I am me, and these are my experiences, and my feelings, and the people who understand and welcome them.•
Rudbeckia at Muiderslot Castle, August 2018
Inspired by Lia Purpura