My Dad

Last semester I had to write a creative essay in my Creative Writing class.  I had never known you could write a creative essay so the assignment was extremely frustrating.  Not to mention, it was my workshop assignment I had to pass out for the entire class to read and critique!  I really had no idea what to write about or how to do it, so I wrote this in an hour the night before.

Thankfully, the class loved it and my teacher told me it was the best one anyone in the class had written!!

So, here's my essay for everyone to read.  I'm sure it could use some tightening and revising, but I can't bear to mess with it. Let me know what you think!

~Sydney

Moments of Gold

            My dad and I have always had a strange relationship.  It is strong and loving and has survived even my angst filled teenage years without a scratch.  Our relationship puzzles my mother, the only other person closest to us both.  Sometimes, it even puzzles me, and I’m an active participant.  Maybe it’s the fact that our bond is based on the one thing that has the ability to get under my skin every time I encounter it.

            Silence.

            I’ve always found silence to be a rather oppressive sound.  When I am alone, I cannot concentrate on anything without some sort of background noise.  As I write or read or clean or cook or study, there is constantly a low hum of noise around me.  The television may be turned on to a random channel and the volume set low.  More often than not, my iPod is tucked securely in my pocket, the wire of the headphones stretching up toward my left ear like some misplaced vein where the earbud is nestled into my ear canal like a parasite.  However, this parasite is far from unwelcome.  The small electronic is like a lifeline for my sanity to cling to when I spend my time alone in otherwise smothering nothingness.

            The fact that my father-daughter relationship is based on and strengthened by something that I go to great lengths to avoid stuns me, even now as I write this essay.  Yet, even as I think this, a memory pops into my head. 

            My dad shifts into a more comfortable position, causing the entire bed to shake.  My attention is torn from the book I had been lost in as I look up at him with a frown.  He ignores me, his nose buried in his own book.  We are both stretched in odd positions across his bed as we appreciate the rare moment we get to spend together, just the two of us.  My head tilts to the side of its own accord as I realize belatedly that silence blankets us.  I use my lips to make a popping noise as I wonder why it took me so long to notice.  My dad looks at me out of the corner of his eye, his arched eyebrow asking why I would dare to interrupt his precious moments of silence.  Sufficiently scolded, I turn back to my book and the light goes on in my brain. 

            My dad and I have never been ones for words.  Even so, it really isn’t as quiet as I first perceived it to be.  Every so often, paper rustles as we turn our pages.  My dad’s breathing is quiet, but still reassuringly there and in sync with mine.  The bed squeaks slightly each time we move.  My own heartbeat pounds in my ears.

            “Dad,” I whisper, “Do you hear anything?”

            He sighs and flips a page. “Just you.”

            I chuckle to myself and settle back in to read, comforted that it really isn’t silent.

            Anthony Pitts, a musician and composer, suggests that “true absolute silence is virtually unattainable.”  He was not far off in his statement.  My perceived silence is filled with sounds of life.  The world is much the same.  Emptying your mind at night does not stop the noise of the world around you.  Yoga, despite its claims to be calming in its quietness, is filled with an instructor’s voice to guide you through.  “Silent” vacation spots generally have wildlife and natural sounds erupting all over.  The fact that pure silence cannot be obtained suggests the unnaturalness of living in a silent world.  It is simply not possible.

            Science has also shown the effects of what humans perceive as silence on the mind.  Animals who were subjected to a life lacking any noise showed aggression and behavioral changes.  The term “sensory deprivation” comes strongly into play with silence.  Living beings were not meant to live without noise in their lives. 

            After observing these facts, I find myself comforted.  Maybe I’m not so crazy to want background noise.  In movies, novels, and any other form of entertainment, a crushing silence is usually a warning sign of bad things to come.  Silence never bodes well for those fictional characters.  They stand alone, calling out in fear the name of a friend or perhaps demanding to know what lies in wait behind the silence.  I definitely do  not want to be the doomed heroine. 

            My dad is next to me once again.  This time, we are cleaning up our dinner mess.  It is far from silent in the kitchen.  Plates clang against granite, water rushes out of the faucet.  I smile to myself as I listen to our footsteps move around each other.  I had so wrongly believed those natural noises meant nothing.  It isn’t silence that binds my father and I together so strongly.  It’s the sound of our lives that put us at ease.  We bond over the mere sound of living.

            “What are you smiling at over there?” my dad asks.

            “Oh, nothing,” I say with an even bigger smile.

            He laughs.  Then, we’re back to cleaning.  The sounds of our breathing and movement fill the air around us.  Just like that, we both fall back into our comfort zone.  I can’t help thinking that if this is really what silence is, then I don’t mind it.  I’ll take those golden moments with my father over background noise any day.