Sunday Silence

A whirlwind of a week is finally over. Homecoming is done, tucked away until next year. Groceries are bought and put away. My house is clean. My laundry was folded and put away yesterday, but as I walk through the house I see it seeping back into the corners. I'll deal with it later, not today.

Today I woke up knowing that quiet was necessary. I had had my fill of loud, had my fill of the sound of my own voice. No more of me. Not today. So I made a silent pact with myself before I pulled the covers back and stepped into the day. Today I would only speak when necessary. Today I would wrap myself in quiet so I could hear the silence, feel the day instead of hollering through it, and listen. I needed to listen, to sit still and listen.

Church was glorious. We sang, "Holy, Holy, Holy, Lord God Almighty" and I felt my soul nod an amen. My eyes went up, like they just knew, and I whispered a prayer.

Lord I'm so sorry. There has been so much noise. Forgive me for all the noise. Thank you for this song, for these words. Thank you.

After church I found myself on my front porch. My quiet place. A motorcycle stormed by. Golden leaves were set free from their perch above, guided to my feet in the protective arms of the wind. Across the field there was a flag football game going on. I heard the low rumble of men's voices, the shrill whistle of the referee's whistle, the whoop of the crowd cheering on a good play, and hearty applause. My ears would wander back home and the crickets met me with their constant chorus. The colors from my porch seemingly changed overnight. Yesterday the world seemed to dressed in green but today the green has been put away, stored away until spring,  and now is the time for browns, golds, oranges and reds.

A whistle from across the field sliced into my autumn dreams and the dog quickly sat up. It wasn't enough to make it worthy of a chase, so she plopped back down, completely surrendered to the lull of the afternoon.

I looked around and wondered about other places. What would it be like to be in New York City today? I remember autumn in Southern California and how desperately I looked for colored leaves. Is there stillness in the city? What would it look like? How would it feel?

A tractor pulling two empty grain wagons rumbled by and I'm back in the country. I'll forever and always be a country girl. I can wonder about the city and would love to walk the streets of New York in the Fall to see if they really smell like freshly sharpened pencils, but I know I would always come back to falling golden leaves, crickets and tractors.

Stillness. Silence. Sunday afternoon.

Naked brown fields, grain wagons, soft breezes carrying the faint smell of animals up the road, golden leaves falling at my feet.