Our life is loud. It's filled with passionate voices, daily piano playing, and lots of music as the background to the daily activities we take part in.
It's my heart, beating hard and fast as the elliptical cycles and I try to outrun disease activity that may someday make more still than I desire.
It's in the crowds of people I try to avoid at the grocery store by shopping in the odd hours.
The girls don't mean to be this way. They can't help their voices going up in pitch and volume with excitement and desire for attention. I often ask, "Are you just getting off of a helicopter?" To combat my desire to hiss "shhhhhh...." I turn to humor.
Because the loud? It gets to me.
I am a girl of quiet. I love music, but will often turn it off and go mute for periods. I crave silence. The older I become the less likely I am to fill up the space with sound.
I think, though, that maybe it is not the loud that I take issue with. It's the lack of peace with which I associate loud.
Peace to you, dear friends. In the loud and in the silence...