Savoring the Flavor of Silence

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It’s an absolutely gorgeous day, and to make it all the better, it seems that they’re not doing work on the building, I suspect, because of the wind. The platform fights against its tethers where they’ve left it anchored, and the flag looks nearly ironed.

It’s probably not safe to be dangling on the side of a building today.

I’d nearly forgotten what the silence sounds like. Or the sort-of silence, I live in the city, so there’s always a background hum of traffic or helicopters, punctuated now and then with the shriek of a siren. But today’s been, so far, remarkably peaceful.

I don’t know that I’ve ever appreciated it, a long stretch of quiet. It’s something I took for granted before the sounds of hammering and drilling through concrete became so familiar, they started to fade to levels that I could almost ignore.

Sometimes it’s good to just stop and take note. Note what you hear and what you don’t hear. What it feels like to sit with a welcome silence. What it feels like to sit with a silence too empty. To know that there are as many flavors of silence as there are of ice-cream, with some every bit as delightful.

Need something to read? Check out  Her Cousin Much Removed,  The Great Paradox and the Innies and Outies of Time Management and Aunty Ida’s Full-Service Mental Institution (by Invitation Only) .

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