Absolute Silence

I have developed a real appreciation for absolute silence.

While I was living in London, there was never really a time when I didn't hear city noises. I could close my door and my windows, but I couldn't really shut them out. Wimbledon was a little better, but as we were living on ground level, I could still hear cars passing by, and that strange whirring of the milk truck at 3:30 a.m., which I swear I thought was an alien the first couple times I heard it.

When we lived in Zurich, we were never far from a tram. The sound of wheels screeching to a halt became a familiar sound.

In China, we are up high enough to avoid street noise (except the occasional fire engine). The only real noises we hear are the neighbors upstairs, who are learning to play the piano (and rehearse all the time, which I don't mind too much because I'm sure some day soon they will play something good). They also seem to run around quite a bit.

Anyway, as I sit here typing, the only real sound I can hear, besides the soft buzz of Chase's baby monitor, is my own typing and the whir of the fan in my computer. And I love it. I love how quiet it is.

And then Chase will wake up and coo, and laugh, and giggle, and sing - and I would not trade this for the world - and I'll forget all over again what it was like to sit in absolute silence.