Sapphic Voices General Fiction

Leah’s Loudness Of Life

Leah wished she could love silence.

The solace of silence. The calm of quiet.

But silence is poison to an unquiet mind.

Because it is the calm before the storm.

Something is brewing. Ominous. Impending.

When she taught, she knew that noise in the classroom was a good thing. That too much quiet means not enough learning. The silence meant boredom or plotting or both.

Like at home.

At home.

Memories of home.

Cowering under her covers, waiting for the noise to stop.

The constant noise.

She draped her patchwork quilt over her head cover it up, but muted, muffled voices still shouted downstairs.

She sang to herself, cried to herself.

She rescued her dog from his cowering place under the dining room table and dragged him to her room where they would pretend to be someplace else. Some other place at some other time.

Leah rested her head on the belly of her dog and listened to his heartbeat. She stroked his head and whispered to him, “It’s okay, Friday. Don’t listen to them. You’re safe up here.”

And his heart would slow down and Leah felt in control – of something.

And then the next bomb would hit and he would resume shaking.

If dogs could really hear a thousand times better than people, it was no wonder Friday would shake.

Leah ignored it as long as she could every time.

Because she wasn’t stupid.

She knew what inevitably would happen if she went downstairs. Tried to stop them. To make them be quiet.

Finally they would stop arguing with one another.

They would stop arguing with one another and start arguing with her.

And so it was both success and failure.

And she would be called things children should not hear.

And when she tried to repeat them back, she would get called worse. Or eat a bar of soap. Or they would make her leave. Make her leave, knowing she would come right back.

Ungrateful, they would call her.

So Leah tried to ignore it and create her own quiet.

In her room with her dog.

In her mind.

Sitting amidst her army of stuffed animals, arranged in order. Protecting her from the war outside. Outside her room and outside her control.

And the quiet only made her brain louder. More anxious.

So Leah learned to create noise in her head.

Noise in her head to block out the noise in her life.

To give her something to focus on.

And even years later quiet was scary.

Scary and unsafe.

Not the quiet of a room but the quiet of inaction.

Of calm and peace.

Because loud minds are the best defense against the loudness of life.

If you have enjoyed Lani Radack's "Leah’s Loudness Of Life", then please be certain to e-mail her at  radacklani[at]hotmail.com  and thank her for posting this Story.

Click here for a list of all of Lani Radack's  Stories and Poetry at  Sapphic Voices Authoresses.

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