The Sounds We Keep

We live in a world that’s always humming, traffic in the distance, a fridge running in the corner, notifications pinging without pause. But every now and then, there’s a rare, unexpected quiet. And in that pause, you notice the sparrow outside your window, the soft patter of rain on the roof, the tick…tick…tick of the clock in the hallway.

One evening, I stayed outside longer than usual, just to hear the bird’s last song fade into the night. It made me wonder. How many sounds have I passed by simply because I wasn’t paying attention?

But there’s another kind of quiet that isn’t about distraction at all. It’s the kind that arrives slowly, year after year, so gently you barely notice until it’s already there. I think of my dad. I live far from him now, and we see each other only once a year. Each time I visit, I notice his hearing has slipped a little more. These days, when the kids call out “Grandpa!” they have to shout, and he’ll smile and say, “Oh, were you talking to me?”

It’s bittersweet, because I remember sitting beside him in the forest when I was little, listening to the way he could name every bird by its song. He taught me how to close my eyes and hear the layers, the high, quick chirps, the low steady coos, the wind carrying it all together. I can’t help but wonder if there are sounds now that he wishes he could hear but can’t.

That night, I realized there are two kinds of listening. One is about attention, slowing down enough to hear the life happening around you. The other is about holding on to the sounds you love, for as long as you can. I hope my dad still has both.

With love,
Penny
Founder of Tidalove 🌊

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