When our children were young our home was a busy, noisy, exciting place. I used to remark that it was never dull around our house. I’d often long for some peace and quiet. Nowadays the house is often peaceful and quiet, and it bugs me sometimes.
During COVID I was able to work from home and now I’ve retired. Being at home constantly tends to let me be alone with my thoughts a little too much at times. It just seems too quiet. I want to turn on music or start a show streaming just to distract me from the fact that I’m missing some of the very sounds that would drive me crazy during my younger years.
Our kids and their friends playing games could lead to laughter and good-natured teasing. Cries of “I was victorious!” could often be heard. Singing along to a favorite show’s theme songs seems to be something every kid does.
It was fun hearing my husband telling the kids one of his made-up stories. He has always been a great storyteller. One thing I especially miss hearing is a baby’s coos, gurgles. and laughter.
When I was young, growing up on a small farm, it could be very quiet at times. However, that quiet was often punctuated by sounds from nature. I miss the cows lowing, sheep bleating, the Chinese pheasant's honking cry, and crickets. Crickets just don’t seem to be heard chirping around outside our house in the city.
I also miss the sight of huge, old oak trees. We had several of them on the farm. They dropped acorns and old brown leaves with scalloped edges. Often the leaves would have “puff balls” stuck to them that I loved to break. That made a crunching noise and revealed a fuzzy structure inside. A sort of wasp (Speckled Gall Wasp) caused the balls when it lays eggs on the underside of a young leaf. A “gall” would form to house the larva.
The gnarled branches of the old oaks hosted big ball-shaped bunches of mistletoe. When it got close to Christmas, we sometimes tried to shoot it off the branches with our rifles. It was really hard to hit the stem that far away. Dad was more successful climbing up the trunk aways and knocking some out with the long wooden stick used to shake the limbs of the prune trees. We had an orchard of “purple prune plums” which are the type of plums used to make prunes. The easiest way to harvest plums was to shake the tree to get the ripe fruit to drop on to an old sheet. We’d take a sturdy wooden stick that had some wooden blocks nailed to it. A branch would be fitted between the blocks and shaken vigorously.
Most of all I miss the sound of my mother’s voice. In particular I miss hearing her say my name. We had several relatives and friends with my same first name. To ease the confusion at family gatherings and such, I was nearly always referred to by my first and middle name. My mom referred to me in that way, although she often shortened that to “Sis” since I was a big sister and her only girl child.
After starting school, I gradually became known only by my first name by just about everyone. The teachers naturally just used my first name, and I was never assertive enough to inform them that I’d been used to being called something else. My mom and a couple of my older relatives still used my first two names or a nickname when we got together. Family gatherings became fewer and much less frequent as we got older and went separate ways. For over a decade now, no one has called by anything other than my first name.
Mom had some expressions and habits that were fairly unique. During a meal where we had some sort of bread, she insisted that we needed to break the bread before eating it. Sandwiches were an exception, but dinner rolls, slices of garlic bread, bagels and the like would need to have a piece torn off before putting it in your mouth. I thought it might have something to do with “breaking bread” or be a little religious, but never thought to find out.
I very rarely hear anyone use some sayings she said too. My younger brother would be told to “go tinkle” (urinate) before we went for a ride in the car. She would say that she wanted just a “tad bit” more potatoes, that spot on my skirt wouldn’t be noticed “on a galloping goose”, or if a siren went off, she might say something like “Hell’s Bells! That was loud!”.
Often, I’ll feel the urge to counteract the too peaceful and rather dull days that I face today. I have to be content with the treasured memories of “days gone by” and things played on our streaming service. I enjoy periodic “moments of Zen” and the “moment in nature” that are shown. Just yesterday I backtracked a commercial (and I normally hate commercials) because it had a baby laughing. I just had to hear it again.
Each stage of life has its advantages and disadvantages. These quiet times during our “golden years” can be used to an advantage. Doing yoga in a quiet room is wonderfully relaxing. There is nothing to break the concentration that makes it more effective. I’ve also had more luck doing some writing lately. Writing can be very therapeutic, and it is nice to have some things written down to share with family members.
Learning to appreciate the lack of sound has taken some getting used to, but it can be a good thing. Without the distractions of the noise and hubbub, I can take the time to stop to look up at the clouds, stars and other wonders in the sky. Pausing to smell the flowers and to listen to birdsong can be rewarding. The peace and quiet of my current situation can allow for many opportunities that I should explore. Perhaps that is a good exchange for the lack of the sounds that I’ll always miss but still hold precious in my memory.