Silence to me is the unwanted neighbor who enters your backyard and after a brief exchange, won’t leave. You are there and the silence is there just watching you go about your work. There are small interruptions, a drip of a faucet here a car passing there, but there it is, an awkward presence pressing in on your temples with its dense substrate. And, just like the neighbor, you begin to wonder what it really is the silence wants, why it lingers and gives no input or inquiry. As you do so, you begin to relax, almost take comfort, in its simple existance. You may even find yourself becoming less aware of it and become once again fully attentive to the task at hand. As your work and toil you begin to forget about the neighbor. You finish and begin to go about your day. You hadn’t even noticed your neighbor had left. You look back and realize that it is gone, the silence. Your home is now filled with music or movies, children’s laughter or laments or a loved one calling on the phone. And though you may never admit it, you long for silence again. To have it once again sit down, make quick conversation about the weather or taxes and then fill your space with awkward numbness.