My desire for quiet is occasionally overwhelming. Our store plays lovely and fun music – which I sign and dance to! – but there are days when I sigh deeply when we turn it off. And mornings when I groan when we start it up.
This summer a friend invited me to swim at a lake. My initial delight was in spending time together. Then my mind latched onto memory of the silence that follows me into water. Both were thrilling and ultimately rewarding.
A few weeks later I was invited back, and I was so forward as to ask if we could swim in the dark, a secret pleasure I remember from my childhood spent in fresh and chlorinated water. My sisters, my parents, and my friends were muted while I explored the capacity of my lungs. The depths never scared me.
True silence was visited upon me that night. A slowly darkening night sky was mine to behold each time I smoothly crested the surface. Long, quiet minutes. An hour perhaps. The magic of friendship that night was when my friend retreated to the house and left me truly alone. I could have wept, and no one would have been the wiser.
Upon his return, we swam into the evening – two voices meeting each other in the dark. I treaded water until my legs were rubbery when I made it back to the dock.
My lungs have a diminishing volume with age, but my love of occasional and deep quiet is met in the embrace of silky, warm water.
– sloane
p.s. Original painting by Philip Robl. Titled: “The Distance”.
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lovely thoughts. i share in that magical allure of water. and night and moon and and….ahhh ! p.s. the painting is beautiful compliment to your story.
Rachelle:
Thank you, always, for reading our blog. To know that we share in the allure of water – and silence – is probably not a surprise!
-sloane