I felt lonely by it all and couldn’t stand the quiet. As I cooked, the TV blared and the radio blasted. Sounds were all around me, vibrating on the air waves as if to tell me that I wasn’t alone.
But even these little tricks, distractions couldn’t stop me from feeling this way. I kept all the lights on and put one, two, three dogs on the bed with me. I smelled my mother’s pillows and relished the scent of them, the scent of her.
Still, the silence was too much. I ventured out on my own, walking the streets of our neighborhood, traipsing through town until I found somewhere I could be. Just be. A lake, glistening with the light of early dusk, just before the chill hits. The warmth comforted me and the breeze wrapped around my face. All around me was the quiet noise of life: cars driving by, fish playing in the water, people living their lives. This silence that I seemed so desperate to fill, I learned, wasn’t actually silence at all. And it all seemed to center around me, a lonely girl from down the street. It was then that I noticed how valuable it is to be alone and just be. How wild, exhilarating even, it could be to just sit and listen.