Silence Has A Sound Too
By Eddie Walls
Everytime I walked up these stairs for 30 years there was a dog barking at the gate and a man yelling at said dog, "shut up Addie, Pearl, Dolly, Tbone!" We are dog people and the man yelling,He loved those dogs as much as any human could.
Dolly visited him in hospice sat right on that bed with him, ran right up and jumped up. He had no command left to give her but she knew where she belonged.
I walk up these stairs now and there is no dog, no man. Open the door and that mom who stood in that kitchen is gone. That kitchen with all that mountain light taunts me with its lack of aroma.
Now I walk into the home and start inspecting what needs to be done for the day. I check scores, always. I check and sweat as the contractors take me around and pitch me about what they think they can accomplish and what it will cost.
I see KC is leading in the 9th as the window salesman tells me how badly I need something that he could give it to me for a little less than he originally quoted me and...Kc blows the lead in extras. I chuckle internally I lost 9 windows apparently.
Check in on Mom at her new place living in the other side of the duplex next to my sister. She can't see me but I give her a kiss on the head before I head out.
Checking new scores.
Back up the stairs, getting dark earlier have to check for bears before I leave for the night. Back at it tomorrow.
Put away all the tools I used to landscape today and haul 2 bags of clothes (always designer clothes, why so many freaking clothes mom!!) down the stairs for a score of the century next week for a size 1 60 year old at the Denver goodwill.
Drive 79 miles all while listening to games, digesting cfb podcasts before I get home. Eat a late meal with the wife, she's always so happy. I don't know about what exactly but if you have met her you know. She's laughing constantly, mostly at me.
Always wants me to tell her about what I learned for the day. S. Alabama might have no D and then she tells me about what NFL teams she thinks will be good this year.
I try to keep up but she's such a lions fan it's a bit hard to take overly serious. The Packers, bears are going to be awful, so bad, they might quit after Detroit beats them babe... She's adorable.
She cooks, I eat and she cleans while I start making notes in my notebook. I check scores and try to smile when I cash a bet and I'm learning to lose again.
I have to confess I have a insanely unhealthy affinity to losing. I take it personal and let it sit with me. That changed some recently.
Here's the order Aunt Nancy 2017 Big mike 2018 Jay best friend 2019 Smoochee dog of 16 years 2020 Dinky 2021 Cousin Eric 2023 Good friend Scott 2024 Wife's father 2024 Wally 2025 Mom cancer diagnosis a month later
You lose the above and you feel you deserve to win. Life owes you a few. In my experience life owes you nothing and you will get nothing that you didn't earn on this earth.
What's even more absurd is the more you feel you have to win the less likely you are to do so.
It changes your perception, losing. You liked the bet so much, you couldn't wait to bet it but that losing shit... That will alter all of it. You now second guess it all and suddenly you lose a dog of 16 years and you've wasted all that emotion on fucking football bets?
So anyways I'm in the notebook until my hand cramps and my eyes grow heavy. Check in on the sisters with a quick text knowing they turn their phones off at 8. Make a second set of MLB numbers for the morning just tweaking them some. 2 am.
Back on the road 9 am 79 miles. Meeting bathroom guy with the tiles and the bad breathe.
Back up the stairs and make sure the chicken coop is to be removed Friday, confirmed.
The chickens were there for 15 years, always walking around with their new chicks so proud. A bear and a unlocked gate July 1st changed that all that. Mom moved 9 days later. The final loss at the house on the hill.
No scores to check to distract as I empty the pantry of its contents. No AC and I'm cooking as I haul it down the stairs. 91 industrial sized trash bags and counting, 48 days consecutive a project has been executed. It's very quiet now, slowing down.
Stop by to see mom. Give her the updates, walk her around her new kitchen and we talk about what is next. Get her back to her bed, turn on the TV so she can listen to her show... Dateline.
I promise her we are going to be okay. Kiss her head and it's 79 miles. No music, no pods just silence tonight. About once a week it's just me and my thoughts. No scores, no work, just piecing it together and trying to figure it out.
New people will walk up those stairs in 15 days not ever knowing the 6 children who were raised there. The 31 years of holidays and the games we witnessed, the fun we had and the losses we endured.
Theyll watch the hikers, they'll leave the trash out overnight and pick it up in the morning as the racoons mock them, theyll take pictures of the deer at first, theyll feed the constant hummingbirds. I'm so happy for them.
Thank you for making the space. Good luck to all. Your friend, Eddie Walls