The soundtrack of life

It’s rare the TV is off in our house, especially once we brought home our new baby — a fancy 47″ flat screen, HD, Netflix-equipped, monster of a TV. But, on the off chance we turn the TV off for an hour, the house is still rarely quiet.

There’s the tick-tock of the cute Motown/Detroit clock I bought for DD for our first dating anniversary.

There’s the rumble and crash of ice in the ice-maker.

There’s the ding of the elevator in our apartment building, usually followed by the slam of a neighbor’s door as they arrive home.

There’s the muted tones of people talking on the street 2 floors below my window.

Every few minutes, there’s the smooth humming of the People Mover, Detroit’s “mass transit” — an elevated train that runs in a loop of downtown.

Many days, there’s the swish of our washing machine, that can only be slightly muffled by closing the closet door.

If I’m REALLY quiet in bed, I can hear the thump thump of the treadmill in the fitness center that butts up to our bedroom wall.

If it’s a weekend or a Tigers game night, I can hear the honking horns, throbbing bass, and excited yelling of people out on the town.

If a certain neighbor is in a foul mood, I can hear her arguing with her boyfriend, sometimes followed by shattered glass and always followed by slammed doors.

See, when you live in a 2 bedroom loft that also has a combined living/kitchen/dining area and faces a burgeoning downtown district, there’s really no such thing as silence. Even though Detroit is a relatively quiet city, with a density nowhere near its big sisters Chicago and New York, it still has its own soundtrack. And when you couple that with living in a building with thin walls, many of your neighbors’ every day sounds are heard too.

For many people, my soundtrack probably sounds like more of a screeching nuisance than a pleasant melody. For me, it’s the latter. Sure, the thumping treadmill isn’t so awesome when it wakes me up at 5 a.m., but overall, it’s home to me. It’s vibrancy and activity and even security. Knowing there’s someone else close by, even when I’m completely alone, is a comfort that I’m not fully prepared to give up someday when we move to our own home on a nice, quiet, suburban block.

This blog post was inspired by Mama Kat’s Weekly Writing Prompt. Perfect for when I’m just getting back into things and need a little help.

Fast forward a year…

Hi guys,

Welp, it’s really been a year. Over a year, in fact. In that time, it’s entirely possible I’ve lost every. single. reader. I had. Hopefully a few of you have hung on to me in your RSS feeds, allowing my little link to wallow away to nothing, hardly even noticeable in your daily blog skimming. Perhaps, when you saw the link light up again, you forgot who I was — I know I do that fairly frequently with infrequent posters.

No blame if you’ve forgotten who I am. I’m just thankful you’ve kept me around all this time. It’s been a busy year to say the least. And at the same time, not all that busy at all. I spend most weeknights vegging out with my husband. (Last time I wrote, he was just a fiance.) Our weekends are often busy, but just as often not-so-busy.

Between planning a wedding, working the 9 to 5, and simply living life, you’d think I would have forgotten about this little corner of the Interwebs. Instead, I think about it nearly every day. Usually in that 25ish mile commute, as my hands grip the wheel but my mind wanders above the Interstate, I think about it over here. I think about how I genuinely miss getting everything out on “paper”. And even more so, how I miss interacting with the people who used to read my jumbled thoughts. I think about potential blog posts, rarely crafting an entire post in my head like I used to, but just thinking about wisps of posts that’ll likely never get written. A topic, a sentence, it all flows in and out again as easily as it comes to me.

And so I often think about coming back. “Next week,” I say. Or, “this weekend, I’ll do it.” For just about 386 days now. Today, it finally happened. And that’s about all I’ve got for now. No major revelations, but hoping that it’s not another 386 days and that the wisps keep coming and maybe starting knocking around enough to put to “paper”.

In the meantime, here’s a little peek at one of my favorite days of the past 386.

Husband and I, happy and newly married, in the park outside our first home (the tall white building behind us).