Silence

It has been a very noisy day today.

It just seems like some days go from one decibelic level to another.

The storm came rolling in sometime after dark yesterday and has steadily increased in its intensity with every hour that has passed by. Wind is a nuisance enough but throw in excess rain and it makes for a joyful combination.

I am not sure if we are just bored in general that weather has become such an obsession for us. Perhaps the thirst for new news is satisfied a little and the need to be in some small way part of the story is met when we can include ourselves in a weather story.

None of want to be involved in the other stories of terrorism, bombing, Central African turmoil or a nationalistic spat of muscle flexing. These can be the stories of other people, We are happy to read or watch that from a distance. But when a weather warning with its ever darkening hue is playing out on the other side of my window then that is a news story I can place myself in.

Spare a thought for those who are living the nightmare, they can’t change the channel or mute the agony; they are the story that is making news tonight.

At the time when she was in full flow it seemed like an incessant barrage of vocabulary. From the moment we closed the door on the outside until the shop assistant interrupted her to speak to me, the words poured from her little lips like a torrent. It was all so important to her and it never stopped until we closed the door again to the nastiness that was outside. Every syllable was essential to utter and I had the great privelege to be involved in her ten year old world. She is peaceful now, a quietly heaving chest the only indication that she will have as much to discuss when tomorrow brings a fresh infusion of thought.

For 120 years the oak staircase has stood stately in its position, countless feet have traversed the treads on urgent business and humdrum routine. Today I punctured the structure to insert a  thoroughly modern addition,  the noise of my drill was going through my brain as much as it was tearing through the grain of the mighty wood. But the task was completed and the tools lie still in their place, awaiting their next great adventure.

Sitting now in the silence of an ending day under the glow of decorated tree is rather enjoyable. Long gone are the days of thumping music and roaring engines, they still occur with a new generation but that is on the other side of the glass. Having packed the offspring away to slumber land and euthenised the TV there is nothing stirring except the wind and the gentle hum of the refrigerator.

Silence is a gift.

Being alone with your thoughts is some people’s idea of a nightmare, but for me tonight the gift is one to be cherished.