Sound of Silence

The old phrase, “The grass is always greener on the other side of the hill” means people always hope that things will be better elsewhere, but as they also say, ‘Only a pessimist can be pleasantly surprised”. Think about it, because optimists always hope things would turn out better and pessimists know they won’t. So when they do, only the pessimist is surprised. I guess I was thinking here I was being the total pessimist. Knowing that this would turn out badly as I moved a slow step forward from where I had been standing. The noise of my father’s sonorous tones did not change pitch, tone or speed. I braved another terrified step, knowing that he was sure to awaken. Still nothing. The pain in my leg was fairly excruciating, but now that I was able to transfer the weight around the foot in the simple motion of walking, it was already feeling better. I took another two slow paces. Still the rumble from the lounge continued. The heavens did not fall in upon me. The ground did not open and swallow me. The ground was shaking a little from the heavy snoring of my father. I admit I could actually feel it tremble underfoot as I slowly and dangerously moved to the rough carpet.

Then before I fully realised the implications, I was standing on the coarse hallway carpet. The small tight knots of its rough surface and stiff wiry strands were like a hundred miniature masseurs working immediately along the length of my pained foot-soles. Oh, the excellent relief. It was a wonderful change in feeling. And I relished it. I dropped my head as I took a few firmer steps on the beaded surface. Pushing the cramp out of my feet by massaging the soles into the brash carpet.

This carpet which, as I mentioned earlier, left small indentations in your knees when you were on it for any length of time. Playing with cars or sometimes, using the hall to set up our father’s electric train set. That was a special privilege, which I recall happening a few times. The strictly supervised building of the small oval track, with the small copper connecting wires of the black speed control knob on the brown metal casing. A real electric train set (that belonged to our father, not the children). Kneeling on the carpet and setting it up always left very deep indentations.

And at the time as I relieved the painful cramp by walking on the rough carpet I was grateful to every one of those indentations. I felt significantly better. Then, turning around to move back to the bathroom to resume the position I was supposed to have maintained, I looked over to where my father sat in his chair. In my relief, I had not been aware that the snoring had suddenly stopped. There staring at me, with what could only be described as a ‘death’ stare, my fathers face was turned in my direction, with his eyes looking directly at me.

(Continued tomorrow)