At home (the house I grew up in), I would lay in bed at night with the window open and listen to trains whistle as they crawled from east to west. There would be nothing but the creaking of a silent house and that faint interval humming... Which is the most calming noise I can think of, especially when that train is two miles away and muffled by trees and houses and night air.
And now, at home (the house I currently live in), I cannot sleep. Instead I lay here with the window open and memorize new sounds, tracing each one in the dark.
There's an airplane.
A faint siren.
Crashing at the locks as something is unloaded.
Traffic.
And of course a boat horn to top it off.
They are foreign sounds, not the interval humming of my childhood and teenage years. But they are still peaceful. This is still home.
It's not what's outside my window that makes it home, but what is inside. It's the house that lays in silence. Or should I say, the people who lay in their own beds and listen to the same sounds I do.
Brittany, Candace, Natalie, Brittany, Emily, Lauren, Amber, Teresa, Todd, and Quinten. Your love is home.
Currently listening to:...
Au Revoir!
xoxo
Caitlin
caitlinboyd72@gmail.com
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