I live in a quiet neighborhood of condos. There are few children, mostly older people or young singles and couples who don’t spend a lot of time at home. Quiet is good, especially for someone like me who is home a lot, writing, reading, thinking.
On Saturday morning, I took a walk up the hill and into another neighborhood, this one filled with houses and lawns. Families and kids. It was a beautiful day on the cusp of summer. And it was quiet.
Where was the hissing of summer lawns? The shouts of kids playing on swing sets and jungle gyms?
The jingle of the ice cream truck?
Oh hot summer days, windows are closed and there’s only the hum of air conditioners. Porches are empty – no one sits outside with a glass of cold lemonade, relishing the evening breeze. Too hot, too buggy. Quiet. The silence of summer.