Listening to silence
A favorite memory from my childhood comes from a warm summer day. For a few days, I was visiting my grandma at the village. After lunch, I went out to play with the other children. We played for an hour or so, and then everybody had to go. Some had to go to their parents' farm to help, while some had to help with the animals, and so on. I came back home and found no one at home. It was already warm outside, and I was feeling even hotter because of playing. I had a glass of water, and then opened the large window for some fresh air to blow in.
My grandma's home was quite simple; there was no air conditioning. Even at that time, I can remember they didn't have a water piping system. Still, I loved being there and being free to play outside.
After I noticed that the large window wasn't enough to make the home cool, I opened the main entrance door for fresh air to circulate. I found a perfect spot in the airflow path and lay down for a while. A gentle breeze blew from the large field behind the house and there was absolute silence. I heard the occasional sound of cars and motorcycles passing on the road in front of the house. I was in a state of being half-asleep and half-awake, listening to these sounds but mostly listening to the silence, and enjoying the cool breeze. My mind was making pictures of the grass and flowers in the field behind the house being shaken by the wind. Maybe they were dreams, or just some mind-wandering.
I cannot remember how long I lay there—15 minutes, half an hour, an hour, or more, I don't know. But the memory and the feeling have stayed in my mind. I sometimes yearn to experience it again: listening to the silence, my mind empty, just wandering.