Noise. It’s interesting how it’s something we don’t really think about. Growing up in a family of five there was always noise around. Not that we had the tv on just a general hum. The noise of Mom baking or Dad talking on the phone. The hum of the dishwasher. The hydro line was right beside my window so I would hear birds chirping in the spring. Of course it also meant that no matter where they parked birds would poop on the car.
I remember staying over at my Uncle’s house who lived on Lake Ontario and my Aunt asked if we slept well. Of course we politely said yes. We couldn’t tell her if was too quiet. We were used to hearing the bus go by. Maybe it was because it was a different noise.
When my Mom went into the hospital for the first time I would leave the tv on for background noise because I wasn’t used to it being so quiet. My Aunt asked if it bothered me at night…did the noises sound different and honestly it didn’t. I missed being able to talk to Mom. The silence was deafening. That’s the hardest part of living alone is not having someone to talk to.
Where I live now I can’t hear the buses but I can still hear the recycling trucks go by. I live across from the elevator which is good for when my grocery person comes but not so much at 1am Sunday morning. Of course I can’t talk about noise without mentioning Rock the Park which is a concert the middle of July put on at the park near me. The name pretty well says it all. This year I’m planning on going away for a few days to avoid it.