Silences and Sounds

In Abu Dhabi, where I was in transit, the sun rose while a bus took us from the plane to the airport terminal.  After Bombay, with its tropical air and its intense colors, this landscape seemed to belong to another planet.

This lone bird, on the plane I was about to board in Abu Dhabi, appealed to me.

After I returned from India--where I had been in big cities, moving quickly, making the most of every day, and talking with many people--I needed to turn inward, slow down, and be silent.

My partner, Marilyn, had returned a week earlier, so I made the long journey home alone.  For those twenty-four hours, I didn't have to speak to anyone except airport personnel and the flight attendant. The solitude was blissful--and striking because I was surrounded by people the entire time.

The shoreline of Chicago appeared as we flew in over Lake Michigan.

Every year, I plant this strawberry jar with a different combination of flowers. 

Marilyn nurtured this pot of geraniums over the winter, and now it lives on our deck again  Red geraniums are among our favorite flowers.

After returning home to the Midwest, I have spent time in the garden, deadheading flowers from the pots I planted and stripping dried lavender from its stems to make sachets. I have watered the hostas and filled the birdbath. I have listened to cardinals and doves instead of to honking cars, and I have spent hours being silent.

The twins played with the spinning tops I bought them in India.  I have a small collection myself. 

Now our nephews, nine-year-old twins, have arrived for "Aunty Camp." The quiet has been replaced by giggles and questions, knitting lessons and pillow fights. Sometimes, we stop to read in perfect silence.

As I washed dishes the other night while listening to the twins squealing in glee in the next room, and later, as we watched videos I had taken in India, I was struck by how all these worlds, all these silences and sounds coexist in my heart.