A home of noise is not often a home of peace,
Yet our home embodies the very essence of serenity.
I sit up, headphones set aside, the fan’s hum stilled,
And listen to the life that surrounds me.
The muffled, unrefined, tones of song blend seamlessly with the splashing of the shower–
A simple harmony of human presence and daily routine.
The cascading tones of the upstairs violin connect our rooms in an invisible embrace.
It both grounds and lifts me.
“Pesto pasta, again?” – The kitchen clutters with pots and pans.
It speaks of shared meals and well-worn habits.
The animated discourse, rising and falling, in what seems like endless Xbox-ing.
Unique tempos and various genres spill from several rooms.
Drifting beneath doors, and echoing through the walls we share.
I’d never appreciated menial noise before.
Useless sound, serving only to irritate and suffocate.
Except this noise is not useless – not at all.
It is proof of a home well-lived in, alive with vibrancy and connection.
It is proof of the beautiful people above, below and around me-
People who fill our house with warmth,
People who rid it of its silence.
People who always replace the fairy liquid,
In everyone else’s favour.
I admit, these beautiful people could lend a touch more care to the tidiness of the kitchen.
But mess is proof of our well-lived existence, too.
The clutter speaks of lives entwined, and how wonderful that is.
What a privilege.
To live in a home full of fondness and friends,
Where every noise holds meaning-
And many a moment is shared.
