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The Sound of Silence

Story ID:11144
Written by:Michael Timothy Smith (bio, link, contact, other stories)
Story type:Story
Location:Caldwell Idaho United States
Year:2016
Person:Ginny and I
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The Sound of Silence



For five years, Ginny and I lived in an apartment. From our second floor apartment,
we had a view of a farmer’s field and his herd of cows. Believe it or not, the cows provided
great entertainment. We watched the hawks and eagles fish in the creek behind us. In the
distance, we could see the Boise Mountains.

We had one of the best views in our city.

It wasn’t perfect. Twice we watched fires started by trains burn the grass along the
tracks. One melted the plastic fence ten feet from our apartment. Another time we saw a
neighbor gather two of his goats and a lamb from the tracks. They’d gotten free and wandered
onto the tracks. An hour later we sat down to eat our Thanksgiving dinner. Neither of us
enjoyed our turkey that evening.

Trains rolled by constantly. At times, our apartment shook. The trains were so loud
We couldn’t leave our windows open.
The freeway was about a mile away. The roar of traffic was constant. Across the
freeway was the local airport. There was a helicopter pilot school there. The hopeful new
pilots circled over our apartment constantly.

More noise.

There were times when we’d hear the helicopter circling overhead, two trains passing by
and the freeway traffic all at the same time.

We sacrificed our peace for the view.

Last weekend, we moved into our new home. The friends who helped us move went
home.

We were alone.

Ginny and I, exhausted as we were, sat on our patio and sighed.

I looked at her, “We did it. You worked hard these last few weeks to get all the small
stuff moved. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate your work.”

“Baby, I love our new home and wanted to move as soon as possible.”

I took her hand and stared at the night sky. I love you, baby …listen!”

“Listen to what?”

“Nothing! It is so quiet. Do you hear the traffic on the freeway?”

“No.”

“I don’t hear a helicopter. Do you?”

“No.”

“A train?”

“No.”

She squeezed my hand. “It’s wonderful.”

Just then a train horn gently broke the peace, but it was four miles away. The train
did not shake our home. The horn, from a distance was a romantic interlude to the sounds
of silence.

The sound of silence is truly golden.

Michael T. Smith