God, it’s so loud. Can you hear it? That refrigerator from the 1950s that short circuits at least once a month, but gets us by, sounds like a rhino rumbling through the kitchen. I can feel the vibrations in the floor boards. 

And the AC? Good grief. Aside from the refrigerator, oh, and the oven from 1972, it’s the oldest and loudest appliance I have ever had the misfortune of sharing a roof with. But it works. Or it did. I couldn’t tell you now. 

The refrigerator, the AC, the microwave, the fans in the bathroom, the sound of a faucet left on and forgotten, even the timer on the stove… I haven’t heard these sounds in months. In a year, if I think about it. 

They’ve been drowned out by drumming, zoom classes blaring in an effort to drown out the noise of younger siblings yelling, Finding Nemo, Def Leppard, Phil Collins, and Queen. Three children playing like best friends, three children fighting like mortal enemies, three children who are overtired, and bored, and lonely, and coping with an unfathomable world. 

For an introvert who would feel overwhelmed by an exceptionally loud refrigerator this new loud is deafening. My loud has been drowned out. 

I’m awake. It’s 2am. I can hear the muffled highway noise. The refrigerator kicks on for another cycle. I smile. I breathe deep. I relax into the quiet. 

You Got This,

Molly