I love sinking into the sounds of my surroundings. The way I feel most present is by listening.
I hear a distant train’s angry horn muffled my miles in between me and it. I hear a toddler crying a few houses away. I wonder if his sibling took the ball away from him or maybe he fell off of his bike. I also hear older kids screaming with joy and courage, followed by laughter. It sounds like they’re skateboarding, almost a make-shift kind. Then there are birds and barking dogs. So many of each at once, they join together in a surprisingly beautiful duet. The birds and dogs are difficult to separate among each, respectively.
Closer to me, the sound of the subtle woosh of pages I’m turning and the fly that’s swirling around the front porch create a paradox.
I’m still and joyful in observing the sounds, I don’t even hear my own breathing, but I hear the swooshing of the trees that are helping me to.