Noises I Will Miss
The sighing sound the coffeemaker used to make in Plainfield that one summer.
Your breathing.
The low, sweet cooing sound Mona made when she was five months old.
The chik-chik-chik of sprinklers in the evening.
My mom's voice.
The sound of your voice, too, that time, in the evening, moving from room to room. You were on the phone. It was ordinary, and blessedly calm. I thought, that's a voice I could listen to for the rest of my life.
posted by lisa schamess @ 15:39
2 Comments:
Can we add to it?
His voice breaking in, calling us "people," at the end of writing group.
"Okay, people, five more minutes?"
Yes! Yes! Add! And I was hoping others would post their own little missed-noise memories, sort of like the Memory Maps at Flickr (can anyone get those to work? I can't even get them to come up on the page and have been going through the link at www.bookjoe.com).
Add! Add!
(I don't remember him saying "people." But that's what happen when you live with someone I guess. You miss a lot.)
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