Moody Meow

Liberal, lunatic lassie, with mood swings and foot-in-mouth syndrome

The Nature of Sound

Posted on | May 27, 2009 |

I listened to the thundering of elephant feet on the stairs, and smiled. My nephew raced to the 1st floor bathroom and slammed the door. The house teemed with noise - the squealing laughter of a joyful 4 year old or the conspiring murmurs of a pair of boys locked in epic battle, playing some game on my PS2. My sister doesn’t know the meaning of quiet, so she fills my home with loud mother-calls for her children. But it made sense this weekend. We are a house full of quiet. David and I laugh vigorously, but we don’t yell, we don’t thunder, we just don’t make a lot of noise. This weekend I was proud to host my sister and my brother-in-law and their three kids in our house. My house has plenty of room for all of us —-yes all of us. For the first time since I moved out as a teenager, I had room for the big, joyful gathering. There were eight people in the house (our friend Amandapants joined us for dinner), plus three dogs, and two cats. Not a lot of people for a 4 bedroom house, but it felt full. Like your stomach after Thanksgiving dinner….it satisfied

We grilled in the back yard - asparagus by the pound and veggie sausages. She made chicken for everyone in my stove. We danced around the kitchen, nearly bumping elbows, laughing more than one should. I actually have a grown-up table and a kids table now. Who knew I would flex the edges of my life to include children? Granted, they are not my own, but I’ve made space for them and their noise. I’m proud of that.

And when they left, I felt the silence of this big house for the first time. It fit like a sweater four sizes too big. I’ve made my life in the quiet of our house. We laugh loudly, we watch movies at decibels that would make one’s ears bleed, and if you’ve ever heard a beagle bay, you know that it’s not all quiet. I missed my family when they left. I missed my BIL and the bright way he smiles when my niece gives him a hug. I miss my younger nephews incessant questions and constant ramblings (he is much like my sister at that age, never quiet, talking even when no one listens). I miss my older nephews uncomfortable stance in the world, at fourteen, on the edge of childhood and adulthood, with a timid foot in both. I miss my niece, who has discovered presumptuous questions but still loves to play on her own. And I miss my sister, who beyond all other in my life (except my husband) understands that family is what you make of it. The differences exist, but our love for each other has gone beyond the normal sisterly bond. We are the best of friends.

In the coming months I shall swallow the sounds of my family. This is the last summer they will live close by for the military is moving them somewhere far away. Honestly, anything beyond the NW part of the country is far for us. The visits will become infrequent. I will end up remarking how the kids have grown in the spans of time between visits. I will feel my age as the loud, boisterous love of being young fades into the sullen contemplation of the teenage years. I will struggle a little with that last visit which will probably be on my 33rd birthday and I will have to grow used to a house whose silence fits uncomfortably around the memories I cherish.

Category: Everyday
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Comments

One Response to “The Nature of Sound”

  1. Claire
    June 1st, 2009 @ 6:52 am

    I really loved this. It was beautiful and bittersweet.

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