Listen

Listen. Just listen. Do you hear it? The rushing cars on the busy road somewhere. The sound of footsteps crunching in the snow. A dog barking somewhere. Do you hear it?

I hugged my gray jacket tighter around my body, I never zipped it up, I didn’t like zipping it up. So I just wrapped it around myself tighter, hoping that I could trap my own body heat in and stop the cool winter breeze from breaking through. It wasn’t very effective, but I think it was really the thought that counted when I did that.

Street lamps cast an orange glow on the dark streets, it was an eerie night. Light snow was falling and the street was like a ghost town, everyone inside their warm homes watching their TVs and talking like a normal family should. But there was the odd family where the mother was at work and the father lay on the couch passed out from drinking, while the children look on cautiously, wondering whether waking him up would be a good idea. There was the odd family where the teenaged daughter did something wrong and she’d be punished in a way no parent should punish their child. Do you hear it? Do you hear the skin on skin contact? Do you hear her cries of pain and for help?

I gulped a little, quickening my pace. I walked along the dark road, right along the double yellow lines that were illegal for a car to cross. Stay on your own side of the road. There’s the odd car that has a drunk driver in it that passes the line, or who has a driver who isn’t paying attention and they cross the line. They realize and try to swerve, or they push the breaks thinking they’ll stop in time so not to be hit by the oncoming car. Do you hear the screeching wheels? Do you hear the metal colliding against metal?

I looked around at the houses. Most lights were off but there were the few lights that were on. I wouldn’t expect a small child being up this late at night. No one would. I wouldn’t expect anyone but insomniacs being up at this late time. Or would it be counted as early? Early day or late at night? Each house was a different pattern, a different color. I passed a white house, then a yellow one, a blue, than a mauve colored house, then the pattern started over again. White, yellow, blue, mauve, white, yellow, blue, mauve, white, yellow...

I stopped in the middle of the road and looked at the blue house to my right. Then at the blue house to my left. They were like twin houses, a light in each living room on. Dimly, as though not to disturb the darkness that lingered outside. As though not to add to the cast shadows. Each house had three people sitting up in the living room. Mom, dad, teenager up late at night. The only thing different about the houses was that one house had a happy family while in the other the teenager was being yelled at. Do you hear that? The sound of his parents yelling at him? Listen to it. Can you hear it?

I remember I just stood there for a few minutes. I just looked from one blue house to the other. Right to left. Anger to happiness. I kept walking not wanting to compare the two anymore. I looked at the double yellow line and followed it, walking along the empty street. I stopped when the yellow line suddenly stopped. When I looked up there was a fork in the road and I had to laugh a little at the cliché paths. One road led to nothing, more emptiness, and the other lead to city lights and gang filled nights. Do you hear it? The sound of money and drugs being exchanged. The sound of nothing, the sound of air. Can you really hear it?

I chose the city path. I didn’t want emptiness anymore. I moved onto the cracked sidewalk and walked along that as the empty streets slowly started to turn into lively intersections. When crosswalks came into play and when people illegally went through stop signs without stopping and right on red without looking. The blare of car horns as though the cars were cursing at the other man driving through. Loud. Disturbing the warm silence that had originally walked with me. Do you hear that? The silence softly said goodbye as I walked into the city. Did you hear it?

I walked along the sidewalk, dodging people with stern faces as I walked. A few of them didn’t try to dodge me and they’d bump into me uttering obscurities and calling me rude. Did you hear them? I fell once but got right back up so I wouldn’t be trampled on by the tens of people coming from all directions. I found a group of people that were going in the same basic direction I was going and walked silently behind them. I could tell they were all strangers to each other, as I was to them, and they were just simply gathering so they wouldn’t get trampled the same way I almost was. Can you hear them? Their breathing, slow, soft, some nervous. Listen.

They turned and I waited at the corner for the light to turn red. For the walk sign to start flashing, reassuring me that it was safe to walk in the cross walk. Reassuring me that once I step off the curb I won’t die, I won’t stop breathing, I won’t be hit. Though if I was hit it wouldn’t really matter. I’d be another one of the thirteen people hit by a car everyday. Do you hear that? The thump of a human being hitting the windshield of an oncoming car. Hear it?

The walk signal flashed. It had a number on it and the number counted down from twenty. Twenty seconds to cross, twenty seconds to be safe on a busy street. Wait. Did you hear that? A cry of pain as a car collided with my legs, causing me to flip over onto the hood of the car? Did you hear that? The car kept going and I rolled off in the middle of the intersection. Did you hear that? The impact of a small, fragile body hitting the hard pavement. Did you hear it? Pedestrians ordering others to call an ambulance, cars stopping, people gathering, whispering, screaming. Did you hear it at all?

Stop. Listen.