Every family has it's own sounds; makes it's own music. When I walk into Anne's it is the sound of folk music seasoning the greens frying in the cast iron kettle. Wooden floor boards strain under the feet and a trilogy of cats purr out a melody, while tea cups collide.
In my house it is the sound of coffe pouring and crakling fires, that is if they can be heard over Etta James or Ween belting from the sterio. The clock announces each minute and then barks out on the hour as if I need to be reminded of how time flys. The funace burns out a tune each time it fires up and Caleb wakes and begins to blow at his mobile's above, while Spud announces company and the cat whines for food.
Caleb and I share the house now. It is just the two of us and I laugh at the sounds we make. Like a little ole couple who are wrinkled with time and know eachother well......we sing a familiar tune. The skuffle of his slippers, the comforting breathes from his room, his good morning chime, the complaining when dinner is late, the softness in his voice when he is sad..........
accompanied by the clucking of a mother, the urging in a voice, the bewildered sounds of not knowing what to do to make things better, the amped up anger that spills in the middle of the night when she is sad.
What lies ahead for us?
It is said that most of us go to the grave without knowing our own music.... So if by some chance Caleb lived his first 26 years fully and has now chosen a different path, a path which bonds Kai and Max and I eternally and makes us question everything we ever knew.....
And if by some chance we have been thrown into a world of new desires which forces us to grow new skin and causes us to shed our old thoughts of how things are....
Then by some chance we will lean to compose a new kind of music and delight in one another....just as we are.