A few weeks ago, I lay in bed listening to a mysterious humming sound outside my window. It oscillated but never wavered. I couldn’t tell where it came from. The noise seemed too constant to be a bird, but I’d never heard it before. At some point, it stopped. Either that or I’d never actually heard it in the first place.
Sometimes, my ears ring without prompting. I’m not sure if this is a symptom of MS or if it’s happened to me for years. Either way, I’ve gotten used to it. The ringing occurs at random, infrequent intervals. It usually only lasts a few seconds but sounds like it does in the movies, an immediate sharpness that dulls to quiet normalcy. The ringing feels like a court herald announcing something important. LISTEN UP. Aside from the ringing itself, I don’t know what I’m meant to be hearing, but I pause. The herald announces silence.
Eventually, the strange humming reappeared. It trickled into my bedroom with no more clarity than when I first heard it. I strained my ears, trying to decipher if the noise was external or internal. I never received an answer. Perhaps the uncertainty was the answer. I stopped trying to figure out the hum and let it lull me to sleep. Real or not, it settled beneath the other noises of the night. It rode the breeze to meet the stirring leaves. It mingled with the calls of the owls and the nightjars. I listened. I heard things in the subtle space between wakefulness and sleep, but I can’t remember what I learned. Next time the ringing visits, maybe it will remind me.
Until next time,
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Another lovely piece. I particularly love the lines 'Perhaps the uncertainty was the answer' and 'but I can’t remember what I learned'.