Listening While You Walk

Cemetery Visitor

A few summers ago I participated in a journal writing workshop in which one of our assignments was to sit quietly in one place for an hour or so and record what we heard around us.  I thought I'd try that today while I am out and about -- I don't really have space today to sit still for long.  So, from today's ventures:

In a scene any mother will recognize: a young couple is loading up a car in a quiet lane.  Their little daughter, about two years old and with hair fluffed out like cotton candy, ventures a few steps away from them, into the street behind their car, just as the car parked in front of theirs starts to pull out.  The mother, loading boxes into the car but keenly aware of her daughter's whereabouts and alert to any change in surroundings, lets out a little yelp and leaps out to grab her child. The father, loading boxes and oblivious to all else, looks up in confusion and, after he has grasped what has happened, laughs at her.

Despite the dense humidity, the Muslim woman approaching me is wearing an ankle-length skirt, a long-sleeved jacket, and a scarf thoroughly wrapped around her head and neck, so that only her face from her eyebrows to her chin are visible.  Despite the traditional garb, she is also wearing headphones, and is listening so intently that she doesn't notice me as we pass.

T-shirts on people walking and running: Troop 22.  We Drink Till We're Full and We Sell the Rest.  Yellowstone National Park.

Woman in Borders, to two other women: "The problem with this one is, you'll finish it in one night."

Woman outside Borders, talking on her cell phone: "She wants me to move out and start living on my own, but...".

Outrageously thin (90 pounds, maybe?) college-aged woman with similarly-sized friend, both wearing skin tight jeans, huge hip-hugging belts, teeny tiny tank tops, and hair in a variety of hues, walking down the block: "Well, like, if there were, like, ice cream at places like, Borders, well, like...".

My daughter, when I stop by the house where she's babysitting to ask whether she'd like to go to a play with me tomorrow night, and the two kids, who are supposed to be eating dinner, start growling and climb under a table: "Thanks, Mom, for making a bad situation worse."

Ah yes.  My role in the universe.

Walked : 3 miles -- 1 at a time -- it's really humid out there!