Sometimes Distant Sounds

By Marsha McGregor

March 31, 2014

Sometimes Distant Sounds

There are times I rock on my porch in this battered chair, listening to life going on in the distance and long to be a part of it. A band playing on the green, the crack of a bat followed by whistles and cheers – even the traffic shushing by can make me wonder why I’m not going anywhere. 

But sometimes I sit and listen with no longing at all, making pictures in my mind. The trombone lifts and slides. Silvered heads bob above folding seats and old toes tap the ground. Little girls twirl in the grass. A boy rounds third and runs home. Someone twists up the volume on their radio, drumming the wheel on their way out of town. I close my eyes and float, letting those sound waves rock me back and forth. Sometimes it's enough to know I'm cradled in that same sea.

 

Photo "The porch, evening" provided by Lars Plougmann via Flickr creative commons license.

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