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Nov 04, 2008

A Quiet While Waiting

I spent the morning with my friend Jenny, canvassing in rural Roxboro, and we couldn't help but notice how beautiful the country was at half past eleven on a cloudy Election Day.

At 37 Brian Ct., we walked up a gravel driveway to the well-kept pre-fab.  Jenny noted the rose bush, perfectly trimmed, still full of rich red blossoms so late in the season.

We knocked on the door and waited for an answer.  (By now, we'd learned that sometimes people come slowly to the door, so we weren't in a rush.)  Meanwhile, we admired the roses, the lawn, and the overcast sky.

It was about sixty degrees, with a constant light breeze that alternated between barely noticeable and just strong enough to make the autumn leaves whisper.

Most of the time, Jenny and I talk without pause.  But standing on the porch, in a space between sentences, we came to realize just how perfectly quiet it was on the eastern edge of town.  Just the air and the leaves.  Then two cars faint in the distance.  Then again, for the longest time, nothing but the air and the leaves.

It's 6:56 now.  My computer fan is whirring.  The television downstairs is talking about something important but not yet decided.  I'm trying to remember the quiet while waiting.

And I remember the sign that my friend Mark used to have taped to his monitor: B R E A T H E.

06:58 PM in Editorial, Triangulations | Permalink

Comments

:)

Posted by: | Nov 5, 2008 1:25:47 AM

I'm so glad you went to Roxboro! They really needed volunteers up there.

Posted by: Sarah | Nov 9, 2008 8:04:29 PM