It was quiet outside last night as dusk was falling. The trees still – leaves not clapping their
hands - no wind to speak of – quiet and still - the very air immobile. And it
is like that now this day.
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| Plain Trees on the Briaire Canal, France |
The house, too, is quiet and still. Even with the dogs
panting, nails clicking on the floor as they move around, Vespa incessantly
grooming herself (even in old age I think she is vain – “o - you’re so vain…!”) or Hunter barking at the squirrels, it is quiet and still. There
is an eeriness here that I can’t explain – or maybe don’t want to. Why today?
It’l be 8 weeks tomorrow – and it feels like 800 years... maybe
that’s why.
I look around, everything is still in its place, nothing has
changed. Yet everything has changed and nothing is in its place. Maybe that’s
why.
And I think – ‘what should I make for dinner?’ And then I
think ‘why bother, there are leftovers in the frig -and its just me anyway.’
Maybe that’s why.
Maybe I should turn some music on – but no, I don't think I can stand the
noise. Maybe that’s why.
But it too quiet and still, except for whatever is raging
inside me. Yet whatever it is, I can’t get to it. It’s too quiet and still.
Even taking the dog for a walk was like being in another world
– the entire neighborhood is quiet and still - not one person outside- no
casual traffic – no coming or going, no to and fro – nothing. Am I in the “Twight Zone?” Remember? Quiet
and still.
Even when we would be home together – it was never this quiet
and still. There was a spirit, an energy
here that is no longer. Maybe that’s
why.
Maybe that’s why the trees are not clapping today….and it is
quiet and still – maybe the trees are mourning for me – with me, it’s been 800
years since that day. And it’s only just begun.
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