Oh my God, it’s quiet.
Like too good to be true quiet.
I’m afraid that at any moment I’ll hear a neighbor yell or a stereo blare, so, to take full advantage of this moment, I’ve turned off all the lights. The contrast of the bright laptop screen surrounded by total darkness is blinding, strangely making me sleepy.
It’s so quiet that I’m trying to type lightly, so that the tapping of my fingers against the keyboard won’t disturb this wonderful moment.
It’s eleven o’clock on a Saturday and I can hear the wind have its way with the leaves. There’s no other sound. Not a peep from any of the neighbors. Not an airplane overhead. Not a siren. Nothing.
I can’t remember the last time it was this quiet.
Usually, this kind of quiet is demanded and commanded when we’re truly unable to enjoy it, like when we’re hung over or have a migraine headache. In those situations, it doesn’t matter how quiet it is, the loudness of our discomfort takes over with two turntables and a microphone. This, however, is surprise quiet. Unexpected. This is tip-toeing perfection quiet. Quiet that can be fully enjoyed.
It’s as if the outside world is writing, in front of a laptop, tapping all the keys carefully, not to make a sound.
I can’t tell you how much I needed this moment.
Maybe I should shut up and enjoy it.
Mari de Armas 