The House is Quiet

The house is quiet. Everyone is asleep except my small dachshund Harrison. He thinks he needs to do whatever it is I do, at all times, but he’s rolled up in a tight little ball in his bed, both eyes closed, one ear alert to me in case I move elsewhere.

All the rooms around me are dark, a small lamp is softly lighting the room where I am sitting. My office window is open to a mild Texas evening and a temperate spring breeze is bringing the exterior smells and sounds to my senses. The sounds from outside the window are those typical of deep evening in an urban setting. The smells are those of fresh spring growth from the tress, shrubs and flowers just outside the window’s view.

Somewhere down the street a lone insomnia stricken dog is working his way through a series of barks and howls as though he isn’t sure if he’s upset at a perceived intruder or if the moon seems too mysterious to let it hang peacefully in the sky.

The wail of a police siren made it’s way to my window a few minutes ago, that far away siren sound that signifies business is good in the policing enterprise somewhere in the late night of Texas urban sprawl; yet its distance renders it unimportant to my room and my mind apart from knowing it existed in that moment and was then gone again.

Occasionally I hear the sound of jets overhead, still 30 miles from the DFW Airport when they pass over my house, yet they are low enough to register their existence into my room, and I wonder where people are going on a Sunday evening so late. I’m wondering if they are lonely, or maybe solving loneliness by coming home to the ones they love. Then there are those individuals that fly away and back home again and remain lonely in either case; victims of a temporary relationship society that has misplaced their families, spouses and friends.

I sat down tonight to write about the idea that some people around us are givers, and others are takers. Some of us fall into a middle ground of giving and taking. Today I was given to. The gifts came from the person that has made a daily habit of spending her time and energy toward my comfort and happiness. She has been doing it for many years. And I am concious, though it’s not a proud confession on my part, I have learned to take more than I give.

And so I am keeping the dachsund up late while I sit and think about why some give and some take, and why some seem to get it just right. And I’m wondering if one attitude might be better than the other. But I have realized that the exercise is daunting, the hour late and my brain seems to be running in slow motion as the smells of spring and the quiet sounds of night after the world has retired interrupt my intentions and my concentration. For now, I’m going to go peacefully into the night with this puzzling mystery unsolved. Maybe tomorrow the truth will show itself to me. And if it doesn’t then perhaps its not my time to know.

For today, I am thankful for those special people that keep giving to me; and find their own happiness in doing so. I want to go there some day. Just for a change you see.