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Saturday, June 16, 2012

Sounds & Memories

Inspired by the familiarly simple sound of putting my glasses on the wooden nightstand before getting into bed. Hopefully after I transfer these thoughts into my blog, my mind can settle down to sleep.

The thump,thump, pitter-patter sound of Henry's feet hitting the plastic sides of his enormous firetruck bed and scampering into our bedroom, seeking company in the wee hours of the night.

The softer, muffled thumps of Kathryn tossing & turning in a semi-awake state (this could occur at any hour of the night but usually at that exact moment when I DO NOT want to get up).

Kathryn's brief squawks announcing she is in fact awake and someone better do something about it. Squacks increase in volume and intensity until her bottom is in a clean, dry diaper and she's clutching a warm bottle.

Kathryn's blankies rustling and her snorty, little self-satisfied laugh when she hauls herself up to peer over her crib at me in the morning. Definitely prefer this wakeup call to the indignantly commanding squawks.

Our dog's collar jinging as she scratches an itch before settling down for the night.

Our car door shutting, signaling Dada's return home from work, or the longer drag of the van door opening as we load the kids & gear for the day.

The scrape of our door on the uneven floor of our entryway as Dada walks in.

The gurgle-drip of our tempermental coffee-pot- "Will there be grounds in my morning cup or won't there?"

The sucking pull of the fridge door being yanked open by an inquisitive Henry. "Mama! I want an orange juice box, PLEASE!!" as he helps himself. Then the slam and subsequent "pop" of the freezer door opening. Ugh, remember to close it.

Haven't heard these sounds in a while, but they're still every bit as familiar....

The cows impatiently mooing at their suppertime, building to a demanding crescendo, not unlike Kathryn's morning squawks.

The chickens crowing at all hours. Roosters DON'T only crow at daybreak!

The cats' light & quick steps as they chase each other, occasionally the ripping sound of fabric as one seeks to escape by climbing a piece of furniture.

An old tractor reluctantly starting up and then chugging along with intermittent roars with shifting gears.

The gigantic pig's greedy grunts as we walk across straw-padded floors to toss spoiled apples into her pen.

The back room door being slammed shut, glass rattling, after the boys come in from chores.

Then there are the sounds that are painfully absent.

 My Grandma hollering exasperatedly (and in vain), "Take off your shoes! I just mopped the floors!" as we come in for a snack, dusty & dirty from the barnyard.

My Grandpa saying all he wants for Christmas, his birthday, Grandparent's Day, whatever... is a hug because you can't buy those. So true.

My Nana's voice, answering her phone, and then her "Goodbye. Love you too, baby."

My Grandpa Jake saying, "OK, toots."

Jim's Grandfather stubbornly arguing, adamantly refusing to back down for even a second. Two peas in a pod, they were.

My best friend, Kat talking, just talking. She's been gone for almost 13 years now and I can barely remember the sound of her voice.

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