Noises

There is more noise than you would think would be bearable, or at least be capable of being slept through. In actuality, it fills the silence, the stillness of insomnia. That lack of anything that keeps you awake at night. The water filter in the fish tank bubbles on unchecked. The fan in the window makes whatever noises fans make in a manner that is louder than any other fan I've ever been forced to sleep to. But the heat and the silence keep it on. The air was still and thick this evening, almost as though it had captured the essence of the entire week in one room in one building in one moment in time. How strangely my feelings have changed. I used to think I would be bothered that I wasn't leaving too. But what has affected me most is not my lack of finishing but their departure. The thought of a person comes to mind. A person I rarely see. I realize that is what I will miss the most. The random encounters. The "hello" in passing. I will never experience them again in the same way. The air holds the nostalgia. The fan keeps it at bay, as though it were some positive thought or some encouraging word.

Evenings

I was watching the lightning in the north sky. It might have been heat lightning. It reminded me of last night when I watched the lightning tear through the sky, the same sky, both brilliant and terrifying at the same time. The fact that I was driving didn't help the matter. The thought of being struck pervaded my mind much of the trip. But this was different. It was far away, not causing explosions in my field of vision, with thunder echoing its response to the fissures of light spreading downward from the heavens. It reflected the internal workings of my being. Just as much as I was panicked last night, I am calm tonight. I am too alone to panic. Loneliness is like a drug. It is an addictive substance that is at once calming and terrifying. Strong emotions flee, unable to resist the pervading force of emptiness, of sorrow. Like the heat lightning in the distance. Perhaps it is something that should frighten. But the subtle beauty of it, the sad solemnity of its silence, drive away all thought of fear. A calmness spreads its way through your body, through your mind, because it feels safe, it feels empty.

Streamside Twilight

     The stream continued to rush by the same as ever, unaffected by the darkening sky, the only difference as the night drew closer being perhaps the seeming elevation in noise from the water because of the silence of the evening.  The small amount of light that remained glinted on the water’s surface and you could see little ripples being pushed toward the edge, despite the main current carrying the water downstream toward the little waterfall, which was really nothing more than a very slight incline in the rocks that the stream ran across.  There was small rock jutting out of the water partway down the incline, causing the water to spray into the air a few inches as it was pressed into the obstruction by the fairly swift current, giving the appearance of a miniature fountain in the midst of the stream.  The light continued to fade, but it was difficult to notice when completely absorbed in the stream itself.  But upon drawing one’s eyes from its darkened yet still shining surface, it was obvious that the world was growing ever darker, something that would be depressing except for the fact that it was too beautiful to sadden and there is always the hope of light the next day.

The Evening

     Wind blew gently through the grass, causing the blades to wave back and forth – an endless sea of green in constant motion.  Although the wind was not strong, it managed still to move ever so softly through the low-hanging evergreen branches, making it appear as though they had minds of their own – as though they were long, green fingers reaching down to the earth.  The wind would grow slightly stronger ever so often, and as it did, the speed in which those green branches moved would increase, as would how quickly the tiny blades of grass moved.  And that was when you could hear it.  You could hear the sound of the wind.  It was a soft sound, a sound which is hard to describe.  It was calming, yet exhilarating.  It could make you feel relaxed, and yet excited by the wonder of it at the same time.

     The sky was not its typical blue, but instead it appeared to be a white or a light gray, and was still just as beautiful.  Clouds floated by quickly in the air overhead, but seemed to hold no threat of a storm.  The wind picked up once more, bringing with it a bit of a chill as the temperature decreased with the progression of the evening.

     There were many crickets there.  Though they remained hidden from sight, it was easy to hear them in the relative silence, as they all joined together to create their unique song.  The smell of the grass was strong and sweet if you were close enough to it.  It possessed such a beautiful smell.

     You can still hear the wind.  You can feel it on your skin and blowing through your hair.  You can hear the crickets.  You can see the grass waving in the breeze and the branches doing the same.  And now I will leave you to imagine it for yourself…