THE SOUND OF SILENCE

Like the surfers who dot the shoreline from San Diego to Los Angeles, Terry and I continue to ride the waves from our holiday.

Although it wasn't too hard to leave the state of sun, Legoland and Twilight Zone reruns, I realize it's the ocean I miss the most.

A constant friend during our afternoon sojourns at the ocean side, the sound of the crashing waves provided a rhythmic backdrop as we walked the beach or played a modified version of bocce ball using the rounded stones that we found in the sand.

Over time, we grew so accustomed to the sound of the briny percussionist that we stopped noticing it at all.

And then one day, as we were reading our books at the beach , I suddenly turned to Terry and asked,

“Do you hear that?”

“Wow, it’s so quiet,” she said looking out at the water. “What happening? They’re no waves.”

The silence was eerie; it felt like time stood still. Even the pelicans that constantly patrol the coastline like long nosed gliders were grounded for now.

A few moments later, the beach music returned, the volume higher than ever.

“Boy, that was really weird man,” I said, showing off my beach boy vocabulary.

A big Simon and Garfunkel fan, Terry continued.

“That's the sound of silence and it reminds me to not take things for granted, like the support of friends or having the good health to take this holiday. Most of us don’t appreciate these things until they're taken away.”

“Like Joni Mitchell,” I quipped. “You don’t know what you’ve got til it’s gone…”


As Christmas nears and our days rumble on, take a minute to stop and make some silent space for yourself. And take some time to be grateful…before they take away your bit of paradise and put up a parking lot.