By Linda Margison
The swoosh, swoosh, swoosh of my unborn babies’ heartbeats. The sound of their first cries.
“Love you, Mama.”
“Forever and ever, amen.”
Those are the sounds of my heart.
“You are the problem. It’s all your fault.”
The sprint cars roaring around the racetrack miles away.
The thunder announcing an approaching storm.
The rain, rushing down and hitting the earth in both destruction and nutrition, so loud and fierce I cringe and cower.
The whir and rattle from the fans on either side of the bed, keeping the silence at bay, distracting my mind just enough to find slumber.
The snoring of the dog asleep at my side.
The ticking of the clock on the wall, reminding me that this moment is now gone, and so is this one and the next.
Those are the sounds of my reality.
The click of a shutter, capturing and holding in time a moment, a memory, a life.
And the peck-peck-peck of my fingers across the keyboard.
That is the sound of my soul.