Silence

Today I woke up and there was no sound I could detect around me.
Just a thin stray of light… and nothing else.
I got up and felt the wooden floor under my bare feet — colder and colder with each step.
Went down the stairs, opened the window covers, and the sun was already beaming bright.

I felt a gentle pull to go sit outside on the balcony.
The view was stunning — and so peaceful at the same time.
The mix of colors filled me with emotions.
In the background, the mountains stood tall, their dark peaks touching the blue sky, their bodies covered in green trees.
At their feet, small houses gathered near the blue-gray lake, its serpentine margins guiding the cars through that quiet paradise.

I closed my eyes for a second and simply breathed in all the colors in front of me.
And in that moment, it hit me: I’ve been missing the sound of silence.
I am missing silence in my life.

Those serene moments of lying in bed, wrapped in stillness —
Just listening to the soft, insignificant sounds that fill a quiet home:
the crack of the wooden floor,
the gentle flow of water in the pipes,
even the annoying buzz of neighbors going about their lives.

The garbage truck collecting waste.
Airplanes approaching the city.
Birds singing at dawn.
The first cars gliding by on the road.
The elevator going up and down.
Frenzied footsteps of someone running late.

And suddenly I ask myself:
Does silence sound like this?
Are all of these… part of silence?
If so… could the sound of my loved ones be silence too?

Why is it that I can stop, breathe, and feel whole when these background “sounds of silence” unfold —
But I struggle to listen to myself, to rest within, when my loved ones are screaming, running, making a mess?

Am I tired of them?
But I love them. Deeply.
Shouldn’t I be grateful to be here, now, with them?
Am I going crazy?

That question lingers…
What is silence?
Is it the complete absence of sound?
Or is it something else entirely?

Waking up without shouting, without rushing.
Going to bed in peace and quiet.
Being with them, and still being with myself.

I love my loved ones —
And I’d do anything for their safety and well-being.
And yet… lately…
I am truly missing the sound of silence.