Although the sun had set several hours earlier, it was still close to 80 degrees. We sat on a bench beneath carefully pruned towering oaks. Their branches were so long, you couldn’t tell where one tree ended and another began. Like a crowd of people reaching out their arms, letting fingertips touch, the trees seemed to invite us to join their circle. Just to our left, stood the simple, unadorned law library. Nearly in front, almost facing us, was one of those statuesque Southern Style structures with Corinthian columns and three balconies. Ten minutes earlier we stood on the second level balcony. I turned away from the railing after only a few seconds of standing close to it, embarrassed that I’d gotten a little light-headed. But, he walked towards the staircase at the same time, bent over, reached towards his shins and explained, “I’m feeling tingling sensations here,” as he waved his hands up and down his legs, ending with his fingers pointing towards his toes.
“I call it ‘toe-curling.’ I’m having the same issue. I don’t really want to go any higher.” I freely explained. We made our way down the winding staircase, me no longer ashamed of my fear of heights. One particular bench whispered our names, and we heard it. As I studied the architectural details on this amazing building, using the pale light cast by the antique lamposts, I felt a light touch on my elbow.
“Listen to them!” In an excited whisper.
In the distance I could hear muffled voices and tires on pavement. “The students are out in force. I bet it's mostly freshmen- their the first weekend of college. Imagine their excitement.”
“I’m talking about the insects. Do you hear them?” he redirected my focus.
“Yea. Those are june-bugs, right?” They hummed off and on. I’d heard them my whole life and knew he had too, so I wondered why he pointed out the obvious.
He put his hand on my arm, “Yes, they are the loud ones. But listen closely, there are 3 layers of sound.”
I closed my eyes, uncrossed my legs and leaned my head back. It was as if someone turned up the volume. It sounded like a million june-bugs had descended upon us. My ears seemed to open up.
As if he knew I was only focused on the center-stage , he added. “I know you can hear the june-bugs, but just keep listening for the softer ones.”
A high pitched whistle sounded from my left. Then above me, there was an echo of that same pitch. "It's a cricket, right?"
"Yes. Keep listening. You'll hear the real soft ones."
A moment later he reached over and touched my ear, “Did you hear that?”
A high pitched whistle sounded from my left. Then above me, there was an echo of that same pitch. "It's a cricket, right?"
"Yes. Keep listening. You'll hear the real soft ones."
A moment later he reached over and touched my ear, “Did you hear that?”
I opened my eyes. I wasn’t sure I’d heard it. “Would you raise your finger when you hear it again?” I waited for his sign. I heard a soft twitter followed by an uneven chirp. He lifted his index finger and his eyes got bigger.
“Did it sound like this?” I tried my best to repeat the rhythm. “Yes!” He said, with an enthusiastic gesture of his head, tilting it forward, confirming my new fine-tuned listening. “That’s it! Keep listening.”
“Did it sound like this?” I tried my best to repeat the rhythm. “Yes!” He said, with an enthusiastic gesture of his head, tilting it forward, confirming my new fine-tuned listening. “That’s it! Keep listening.”
Suddenly, I heard the entire night orchestra. Violins, violas, cellos.
“Why do they sing like this? Are the males singing, hoping to find a mate?” My question sounded so terribly naïve that I was immediately ashamed that I’d even asked it.
“Uh-huh. That’s right.” He gave a reply that I imagined was the exact tone he'd used to answer his sons' questions.
“That’s really amazing. So, the ladies are listening intently for a certain song, a voice that they cannot resist? And they move closer to that music?”
I smiled in the darkness, feeling like the insects were showing me a path to follow.
We continued sitting, his elbow propped on the back of the bench. I propped mine too, tilted my head back again, and closed me eyes. A light touch surprised my little finger, and I jumped a little. But, I kept my eyes closed. His pinkie traced my finger so softly, it reminded me of the way I lightly kiss my own children on the forehead, or cheek, while they are sleeping.
After he caressed my little finger he wrapped his around mine. I felt like he'd linked a kite string to a steady rock on the ground. I was free to float, but felt a sense of connectedness that I hadn't felt in over twenty years.
We sat and listened, linked together, to the orchestra, and it was as if all of creation was handed to us. I felt such a sense of awe with the whole night that I wasn't sure if I could ever describe it.
After what seemed like an hour, I looked at him and saw a soft smile, the kind that happens when you are truly comfortable and safe. The lamp lights behind him cast a white glow around his silhouette.
After he caressed my little finger he wrapped his around mine. I felt like he'd linked a kite string to a steady rock on the ground. I was free to float, but felt a sense of connectedness that I hadn't felt in over twenty years.
We sat and listened, linked together, to the orchestra, and it was as if all of creation was handed to us. I felt such a sense of awe with the whole night that I wasn't sure if I could ever describe it.
After what seemed like an hour, I looked at him and saw a soft smile, the kind that happens when you are truly comfortable and safe. The lamp lights behind him cast a white glow around his silhouette.
I realized that this moment itself had many layers. The reality was almost too much.
The soft voices in my life, the ones barely audible, well, I had missed them for so many years. Could it be that he was telling me something about himself, something that I needed to hear, but I was so busy listening to the foreground, that I was missing it? I wanted to start the night over, really, wanted to start my life over, and listen to his soft voice the first time he spoke, nearly 30 years ago.
While that was one aspect of my realization, another one crept into view. Our little fingers intertwined. Such a delicate way to connect.
Were our linked pinkies all that we needed when I'd always thought that I needed an entire hand? He saw a strength in me, with his actions, that I needed to see in myself.
We sat on the bench for what seemed like an hour. I felt my body relax and my breathing slow down. I was acutely aware of our pinkies, which stayed linked, as we enjoyed the night orchestra.
While that was one aspect of my realization, another one crept into view. Our little fingers intertwined. Such a delicate way to connect.
Were our linked pinkies all that we needed when I'd always thought that I needed an entire hand? He saw a strength in me, with his actions, that I needed to see in myself.
We sat on the bench for what seemed like an hour. I felt my body relax and my breathing slow down. I was acutely aware of our pinkies, which stayed linked, as we enjoyed the night orchestra.
“I’m kinda hungry.” I said, as I felt my stomach begin to knock up against itself.
“Me, too.”
“I want some breakfast. We could go to The Grill. It’s just across the street.”
“That sounds good to me.”
His voice, his soft southern speech, melted my heart. We stood up together, pinkies still hooked and walked under the big oaks, serenaded by the love-makers' orchestra. Simple music.
Perfect music.
I finally heard the soft ones, and now, it seems, I listen for them whenever I get a chance. I'm hoping that one day I’ll hear the soft voice that I can’t resist. Then again, maybe I’ve already heard it.
I finally heard the soft ones, and now, it seems, I listen for them whenever I get a chance. I'm hoping that one day I’ll hear the soft voice that I can’t resist. Then again, maybe I’ve already heard it.
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