Chorus of Silence
Sunday, November 16th, 2008
Everthing fell quiet at the four o’clock hour when the TV left playing was switched off. At once, the dogs stopped stirring and the wind that had been shooting sleet into the windows was stilled. This chorus of sudden silence was perfectly timed as a distant freight train gave two loud, dawn-breaking screams at the town’s main intersection.
Those awake at this hour are either blue-collared workers whose families are dependent on the inconvenient hours or those who didn’t expect to find themselves here. Granted, into the early Sunday morning, some are weathering the night’s drunk. Others are surprised – people who engaged in discussions or met someone with whom time slipped quietly past.
Across the neighborhood, lights come on randomly as the inhabitants of these houses stumble to find the way to the bathroom or to let a pet out into the yard. I was passing through the living room with a pre-dawn notion to pick up anything I’d missed earlier in the night with the children in my charge and before getting sidetracked with sleep and other matters.
If there is a time in this house when any of its dozen or more lifeforms can find peace, it’s just before the first light of day. The children, on occasion can fight off sleep until nearly midnight, no matter what activities their day has involved or their mood for the day. They are also prone to shouts in the dark either from night frights or sickness, drinks of water or help in the bathroom. The dogs keep their own schedule, though it mostly involves sleep. And, the same can be said for the cats, but they choose to move about the house corners when their enemies are wrapped in tight sleeping circles.
But 4 a.m., which comes without warning, seems to be a protected hour, untouchable by interruption. Something fills this hour (which may only be a few minutes at the top of 4) with its presence. The quiet can feel almost ominous though not intimidating. The slightest sound is amplied just as voices trun louder after a fresh snow. This is a gentle time and the one part of the day when even the lost souls come together and feel part of the world.
I wonder who is piloting the train barreling through town and rattling the houses awake? At dawn, the man at the helm is the only person with permision to speak.
