I had to step outside for a moment tonight to take out the garbage like mom asked me to. Moments before, I had shuffled from room to room gathering what needed to be emptied, rustling clean bags into place. I plodded down the stairs with bags in hand, slipped on some shoes, and let the door slam behind me as I stepped out onto the porch. What greeted me out on the stoop startled me to a stand-still.
Silence. Complete and utter silence.
It was as though I had stepped over some threshold into a completely other space; even the noise of my slumbering home had been deafening in comparison to the sounds outside.
Fog hung in the air, muffling both light and sound. What lights still burned had their beams caught in the fog, giving everything a uniform pink glow. Not a leaf rustled, not an insect chirped--I couldn't even hear the sound of my own breathing.
The rain had ended hours ago and despite the mist, the air was crisp and cool. There was no wind and it was warm, but refreshing. My walk to the curb was slow and deliberate; I felt like I would cause some sort of offense if I was to disturb the ghostly silence that enveloped the world around me.
When I returned to the door, I paused to gaze on the scene once more and to listen to the noise that wasn't there. The silence that had overwhelmed me before on the stoop was slowly and softly being prodded by the tick of the nearby garden clock and the trickling of a far-off eaves-trough, but nothing else. The world was still blanketed in an eerie quiet that was wonderfully calming.
In the next moment, I had stepped inside and closed the door on the notion that for one moment, I could pause the world for me.
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