Neighbors are fighting again. Summer - open windows - odd how the sound reverberates. Looking at the huge & beautiful house they live in, I always imagine the lives of people who live there are just as pristine and perfect as their home. Not so apparently from the sounds. Odd the way my stomach clenches as the woman's voice rises shrill and wounded. How many times have I sounded like that? Desperate. That sound. The sound of a woman wounded yet trying to hold things together, to desperately gather the strings some one else was unwinding. I sounded like that frequently not so long ago. I hate that sound, even in another woman's voice now.
The oddest thing is that hearing them fight...I find an immense relief that I am alone and no longer trying to gather up emotional strings. Strange the things that make me so content. Tonight no one is going to walk in and scream at me for whatever...No one is going say horrid things. I won't have to fix any one else's problems, and I sigh listening to the sound of the woman crying on the patio as the husband gets into his car and drives off. Her pain echoes endless memories, but I am entirely content curled on the sofa waiting for my son to come home from work.
Life isn't so bad alone.
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Perhaps it's the only way they know how to communicate, then again it could turn so ugly. Some would live a life of indifference and that becomes a very lonely relationship. Then it's best to be alone, there aren't any memories in the first place.
ReplyDeleteVery true
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