Sounds of Silence

 

The silence I sensed felt physical. I could feel the space between the sounds.  Trees swayed softly in the breeze. A car passed somewhere in the distance. I heard a dog bark, followed by the familiar music of an ice cream truck. Then, nothing. 

No sirens. No horns. No buses groaning to a stop. No construction hammering away. Just the quiet. 

In New York City, true quiet is rare. There is always something moving, ringing, roaring, or calling out. Even when the streets seem calm, there is a constant hum underneath it all. 

Here, the quiet seemed to stretch out around me. I began to hear things I normally wouldn't notice—the leaves moving in the trees, a bird calling from somewhere nearby, the faint sound of a car several blocks away. 

I wasn't used to this kind of silence. It wasn't the absence of sound. It was a sound of its own. 

For a moment, I could actually hear the silence.

Georgia