The Soundtrack to My Life

I apologize in advance for all grammatical errors! I dread grammar but love writing!

The Soundtrack to My Life
The furnace rumbles its steady melodic exhalation, as it breathes its fire. The sleepy, old pipes shudder and bang... as if startled awake by the water rolling through them and after a time the radiators begin to join in the rhythmic percussion; clunking in rebellion to the hot water being forced to invade them, they hiss and spit... a signal that warmth is on it's way. The thin, tired walls wrap their arms of protection around all contained within, releasing their heavy, melancholic sighs, as they withstand the harsh breath of winter beating hard against them. The scratching of small rodent creatures... living within the ceilings and walls... can be detected, as they scurry through the maze of the structure's frame, in a frenzy, to protect and lord over their horded bounties. The fine white powder outside dances upon winter's icy breath and...like gypsies...they travel upon the wind, settling wherever they land...creating their temporary colonies of snowdrifts... leaving destruction and mess behind them for someone else to repair and clean once they're gone.

I sit here listening to the music of this old house as a New England January blizzard whips around outside my window and I remember back to when the boys were little and to when there was a far different soundtrack to snow days like these. There was no time for contemplation or listening to the hidden percussions of an old house back then. Nope. I was typically awakened by the melodic screeching and howling of 4 boys fighting over the bumpy spoon and the prize in the cereal box and “who was looking at who while they chewed their food.” The percussion was of; stomping feet (in protest) and chair legs scraping along the floor (as the younger boys pulled them out, to climb atop them, in order to survey the table from a better vantage point, in an attempt to even their odds, as best they could, against their two older brothers) and the clanging of spoons against cereal bowls, followed by the slapping of their bare feet hitting the floor, as they would run to my bedside to see if I was awake yet, so they could get dressed to go play in the snow.

The rhythm of zippers and swooshing of snow pants would begin the climb of the crescendoing peak; with excited banter about “who would get which sled” and “who was daring enough to go over the snow jump,” it would continue to rise; with the crunching of the snow beneath the 4 sets of boots, and the tempo would quicken with; the children-ladened sleds whipping down from the top of Summer St, and finally the song, would reach its peak with; the cracking, swooshing thuds, as the boy-filled sleds would hit the jump, take air and land with a smashing and rude combination of energy.... consisting of mass, momentum and gravity. Then there would be the silence in the soundtrack... the “in-between songs silence” ...for a few seconds I would wait in paralyzed panic that someone had gotten hurt... that is until.... they would begin rolling around to steady themselves onto their feet again... laughing and shouting and ordering each other to carry the sleds back up the hill, often times with Christopher sitting at the bottom of the hill screaming about some injustice of the treacherous trip and refusing to walk back up. The soundtrack would move on and continue to play the next song.

But now with my emptying nest I only hear the howling wind outside and the creaking of a tired house. The tea kettle whistles and screeches and sputters and spits as I remove it from the burner and Haley, our 16 year old Golden retriever, lifts her white-faced head and with her filmy, cataract eyes makes a feigned attempt at scanning the room... perhaps she thought she heard something? But I know this isn't so, a stroke a few months back has stolen her hearing. She used to love the snow. She'd spend hours jumping up and with pleasure and delight she'd catch as many snowballs in her mouth as the boys could throw. She'd romp around and burrow deep into the snow to find the snowballs she didn't catch. She never did retrieve a one of those lost snowballs but she sure did have fun trying. I don't know if dogs can smile but I swear she had a smile from ear to ear. Rosie, a new addition to our family, is a one year old aussie/border collie mix, she spins excitedly in front of the door chasing her tail ~stopping~ she perks her ears with excitement and cocks her head to the side, as she watches me pull my boots on... she begins frantically running back and forth from the window to the door, impatiently waiting to get out into the white ocean of snow that is piling up. I leash her up, pull on my coat and gently rouse Haley to let her know it is time to make a trek out in the cold to go to the bathroom. Haley is happy to sense my presence and attention toward her but groans and sighs as she slowly raises herself up off her cushiony, warm dog bed... limping and staggering a bit as she rises. She steadies herself and then tiresomely wags her tail a few times to let me know she is ready to make the exhausting voyage. A rush of cold air and snow assault us as we step out onto the porch. Rosie is pulling on the leash and wants to unabashedly just jump into the unshoveled snow that lies in wait, but I pull back gently on Rosie's leash as I wait for poor Haley, who is deaf and can barely see. She raises her head in a paused moment... she sniffs at the air for a bit and then raises her nose even higher. In approval she breathes in deeply the cold air as the snow tickles her lashes and nose. I think I can see the trace of a tired smile on her face and her tail begins to wag with as much energy as she can muster. She begins to jaunt towards the steps to the yard but the slippery porch and her bad hip remind her to walk more cautiously. She slows to what is a fast walk for her. I hold Rosie back in order to let Rosie know that Haley is the Alpha dog and so that Haley will be the first to descend the steps into the freshly fallen snow... because she has earned that right as the boys' dog... their best friend... their nanny... their playmate through the years; enduring costumes and being the big “dragon villain” played out in their action figure dramas, licking their bare skin to cool them when they were sick with fevers... Sometimes I think Haley misses the boys' being little as much I do. I think this as she rises for the 4th time today, wanting to go outside to play in the snow but as soon as she gets out there she is only able to muster enough energy to stand there and enjoy the smell of cold and the tickling snow upon her face. She momentarily forgets what she is doing and proceeds to lie down on the porch. I have to encourage her to get up and come in inside after a bit. She looks around confused as she gets up and stands there. I usher her inside to the warmth. She lays on her bed and goes back to sleep.

Yep my life and my sound track are distinctly different than they were even a few years ago. I have a feeling I will become “one of those people” ...you know the ones...the people who talk about their pets as they would talk about their children... well at least until I have grandchildren that is.


© Copyright 2011 Christine Maxwell