When I was little, I got to sleep in my cousin’s old room when we visited my mom’s family in the countryside.
Even today, the room calls to mind an excitement akin to my first pair of velcro sneakers.
For one, there was an intricate doll house that I stared and stared at. When I finally got tired, I retreated to the bed against the window. Then I started listening.
Spaced out in ten-minute intervals (although I can’t possibly remember that with any illusion of accuracy), a car would pass by, driving fast along a road that sounded gravelly. The sound would accelerate in and decelerate out.
I loved it.
In my little apartment in my village now, I can hear the cars pass by the window from my bathroom.
From my bedroom this evening, the cicadas are here.
Thanks for reading! If you liked this post, you might enjoy this one on the sound of plastic.
Please add some small things to your day! Enter your email below to receive small posts of joy straight in your inbox.