The worn-thin cotton of his pajama pants feels like silk against my fingers as I stroke thumb and forefinger alternately over the growing flesh beneath them, the barely-there shhh-shh, shhh-shh lost beneath the cacophony coming from the adjoining hotel room.
The noise — unexpected, unwelcome — comes in titters and guffaws, yells and hoots, slurred words and too-far-turned-up tunes from four young women celebrating a birthday who are either uncaring or just plain unaware that there is anyone in the universe outside of themselves. Anyone, for instance, in the room next door. Anyone in the room next door, for instance, who inhabit a universe alone and who might prefer to make some celebratory noises of their own.
Our own noises are the quiet type. A sigh, a caught breath, a not-quite-moan on exhalation.
These are the sounds to which we attune ourselves.
His is the voice I care to hear; my own voice — accompanying the petting motions of my hands — is where he finds his focus.
We are here to celebrate 19 years of marriage — the milestone of 20-together was passed earlier this year — and just like all the life-intrusions we have tuned out over that span of time, tonight we continue to listen only to our own frequency.
Me, you.
Here. Now.
That is all that has ever been important.
Everything else is just so much noise.
.
Oh, this is so beautiful 🙂 The language, the scene, the wonderful end.
Happy anniversary!
MrsK recently posted…Submission 365: Days 62-66
Thank you. 🙂
You don’t have to be loud to have a good time…
Amen.
Expertly crafted words, as always. Congratulations! Taking a short trip soon too, hopefully quieter than yours.
Sore recently posted…Please No
Thank you.
I hope your trip is lovely.
The noise of Millennials, no doubt, so self-absorbed as to think they need their own symbols…four, no less! Solipsism at its apex, narcissism unbridled…they can drown out industrial motor noise if you let them.
Thankfully,I trust that you knew what to listen to intead, sounds like you did form the post.
Congratulations!
Keep up whatever it is that you are doing.
Namasté
Chazz Vincent
Gen Z-ers, I think.
And Mr. F called security when they were still screaming at 2:00am.
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