It is coincidence or perhaps, fate that I have been on Martha’s Vineyard for each of the two major snowstorms of this winter season. What has struck me most is the silence. In the midst of storms that throw snow, and hail, and rain and near gale and hurricane force winds, the inside of my abode is still. I am snug and cozy inside the walls. There are long stretches of a silence so complete that I do not even hear the storm. However is that possible? Outside, wind shakes metal signs, windows rattle with the gail, and wet snow gives way to rain that pummels the roof. Yet, inside,there is a quiet that is oddly comforting. I can lounge with my laptop on my lap and be so engaged in my thoughts and my interior world that I don’t notice that there is anything but stillness that surrounds me. It reminds me of when I was a kid and swimming in the pool. My mother would call out, “Dear, it’s time to ....” I would submerge my head under water and I would hear a baffled silence and her voice would not so much recede as --stop--. Under water sounds like cotton would sound if it made a noise. Yesterday, I found an unused wind-up clock. I wound the clock and set it across the room from me. I find it oddly reassuring to hear it ticking, ticking, ticking as I worked. When I set to work today, heavy rain, was pelting the roof, successfully muffling the sound of even cars as they passed by. Yet, even so, the silence inside the house caught up with me. I glanced about trying to discern what felt amiss. I crossed the room to rewind the clock. It’s tick-tock was all I needed.
My son’s filming of his short film begins in March. Visit his Facebook page to read more about it.