It has been a long time
since I’ve been sick, but today I’m feverish, head-achy, and light-headed. Most
of the day I’ve been lying in bed, reading a bit, dozing a bit, and lying
motionless with my eyes closed.
Seldom is this house
utterly quiet. I’m accustomed to the clatter of cooking pots, the ringing
telephone, and NPR on the radio. Today, though, I was conscious of the furnace
coming on. I could distinguish between the sound of the heat pump and the
whisper of air moving through the vents. I noticed a sudden pop as the wooden
floor gave up moisture to the drier winter air. I heard a gurgle of my own
digestive juices.
But most of the time there
were no house or human sounds. I remembered the Simon and Garfunkel song, “The
Sounds of Silence.” Truly silence is not entirely silent. It seemed I could
hear a faint whoosh, which I took to be the sound of this great orb spinning
through space. Along with the whoosh was a faint musical tone, steadily
proclaiming the force of life in its myriad forms.
Truth be told, I’ve rather
enjoyed being sick, although I hope that tomorrow will be filled with the usual
sounds of human activity.
Copyright
2013 by Shirley Domer
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