Her Crown of Noises

by Burghelea-Handaric Maria-Daniela

It was a regular and typical day. Nothing was special. Sunrays, still play, come and go on my face, without letting me enjoy my morning sleep. I stay still for few minutes with thought that they will go away. Not even close. They continue to come and go, like they are all alone preparing a party on my face. I let them. They are funny and cute in their childish game. My sleepy mind is trying to think what should do in that day. Not too much, but I have much to do…

Hold on, with my mind still sleepy and with sunrays full of play, I try to make room for me in this morning, in this old world, but unknown for me. The house is ready to wake up. Sunrays get her? I don’t know. I just try to listen to her moves and his noises. They are strange, don’t look like the typical sounds heard in every morning. Hey, sounds like something I know…oh, no, just a sleepy door who just glued on her frame with anger. Nothing unusual in this house! I decided that in this new morning to hold my life for a few seconds, maybe minutes or maybe hours and listen. To listen for the first time to the noises around me, which was never important to my life, to observe things which I don’t believe I saw before, until now.

Interesting this new world! Where are the sunrays now? Have they found another game? Oh, now…they are here in my show. But I don’t invite them. I only hear doors opening and trapping. Anyway, it doesn’t look like it was from my house. Everything is new – from the first sunray – to the noises of the house. I have time, so, I stay and listen. Looks like something new. I hope I don’t dream….another noise. This time was much easier, much wiser, but more discreet. He has a special air. Has grace and power. Has determination, but is rather weak. It is a door noise. How can make this door noise be that weak, but in the same time, so decided? I will follow that noise, it is made by a…woman. Delicate, decided, suave, but strong. What a mixture! My heart looks like she wants to break my body and go out – hey…where do you want to go, my little heart? She was scared by a damn weird noise. Well, then? Who makes it? Looks like a tornado coming. I don’t have a chance to see or feel one in my life, but the TV left me a clue about how it is. I think she looks like what I just heard. Opens, slams, don’t close.

He sits at the table, the noise of the opening newspaper is so energetic, so rush, maybe a little bit nervous, and yes…he gives orders. He never hears any noise. He gets a simple, routine and indifferent noise. Maybe an ignorant noise, but I don’t think so. It is from the woman who was the noise earlier. He finishes, is up and he goes in the same way he came. Silence…with ease I hear preparing noises. My heart doesn’t want to go anymore. I got her in my game. She sits and listens. I hear the same movement. With care and carefully, with the routine of the years, she is washing, removing and placing objects on the table, closes and opens doors. She put a light on something…the cooker flame. Probably preparing something. But she makes a strange noise. It is not from preparations. It is from the soul, it is from her pain. She keeps going…kitchen noises cannot cover the noise of pain. How powerful it is, but she ignored him. She has something else to do, something she’s been doing for years, but with the same noise of pain. She blends like a crown of spikes, noises of pain, of habit, regular love, of hope, of love…maybe the noise of love…yes, but, this does not appear to be present in her crown of spikes. The noise of sorrow is present.

I decided. I will go after that crown of noises for one day. How rich is this crown…and she looks so beautiful, or maybe she was. I cannot figure out, I will go closer. Silence…hey, this time is outrageous. Same, like earlier, the noise of two little tornados make their appearance. They scream, they cry, they caress it, they order, to whom? To the crown of noises. She only listens. She looks at them with adoration. For a while the noise of pain is covered by the noise of love. What noise of love…sweet, suave, forgiven, determined and, yes, patiently! Is someone that can leave like this?! It is so fascinating this interweaving. Preparing noises are heard, she makes them. Voice noises…they come too. Scold, but she’s not yelling, advising, but she’s not ordering. She wanted to spoil them, but she cannot. Interesting. The spoil noise it is pretty weak. She keeps him hidden. Little tornado could stifle, choke him, so she hide him. What a crown of noises in this morning. Looks like a habit. Pain cuts her. Stabs her in the lowest corner of her body. I wish I could say to her “stop!” But I cannot do that. Why is that? I don’t have a noise to reach to her, that she can hear. She only keeps going. Little noise goes. I can hear only the pain noise. That is what remains of her.

She cuddles, she gathers her self. She ignored that noise, but it is still present. What a crazy noise! She seems common to her. She makes other noises. Finishing. Oh…I see …prepare herself. I can’t see her, but I feel the way she looks at herself. She is alone with her crown of noises. But she still has that pain. I hear noise from arranged hair. She makes him in a hurry, palms touch her face, probably, she looks at her. She doesn’t do that for a long time. Other noises came, which she blends. She is in hurry. She wore a dress that was prepared before and dresses her indifferent.

It is strange, the pain is still there. I can hear. I think she ignores her, or it is used to her? Now, she’s ready. Opens, closes and she goes. It is the last noise made by her. I think she goes to her work. I cannot hear the noises from there, but I guess. She goes with the noise of pain…they do not leave her. It is so normal to her and I think she even notice anymore. Now, is silence! No noise.

What a morning. Still, I don’t realize where I am. I wait. Exciting, this game of noises… I have in my mind that crown of noises. It is beautiful, but sad in the same time. I wonder if she knows about it. Probably she not gives her attention to it anymore. In a hurry all the time, she does not notice, she keeps her attention on the others. Unhappy…but she must please others. Concerned for the house noises, without paying attention to her own noises.

I did not feel when the sleep came to me and I did not know when this noise spellbound me. But, hey… I just hear familiar noise – in fact many. Oh…the same pain and another new noise appears. It’s a happiness one. It is the joy of coming home. And here she comes, noise of habit. There are many. The house is cared, is cleaned and it is arranged. What a blind, what a crown. It is she. She starts all over again, with different order. The noise of her self-concern is not blending. Concern for others is her second nature and the pain follows her. Oh…the noise of little storm, just arrived. Careless and selfish, they only demand from her. They take and go. They left her alone. Another noise I hear. It is from tired. No one notices him, but it’s usual for her. She keeps continuing to prepare.

The day is finished, so others’ noise gets around. I wish I could hear the noise of her heart, at her tiredness, soul and mind. The walls from between us are too thick, or it seems to me this way. I wish I could take in my arms and cuddle those noises of her mind, heart and soul. I want to chase the noise of pain, lock him, that never could come to her. I want, that she could have only the noise of relaxing, the noise only for self-esteem. I want to admire and hear the noise of her hand on his beautiful face. But I cannot do that. The noise of my despair breaks my soul and I can feel her pain noise. It’s present all the time in her crown of noises. Any noise she makes, this noise is present. If she care and teach her little storms, he is there, if she waits, a tornado is there, if she tries to pay attention to herself, is there, if she cares for her home, is there. Anything she would blend in her crown, the noise of pain is still there like weeds in a wheat ears yellow crown. And I cannot make a small, little noise for help.

After such a day, the only noise I can hear is the noise of silence. Even the pain stops a little bit. She is alone with her soul noise. She’s thinking. I wander about what? I wish to hear her. Not yet. The magic of the late summer night shrouds her. I can feel in the end the noise of relaxing. I never even hear when she sat down. What a crown of noises!

And I was not able to do anything. I can hear my sadness and despair noise. If she can hear it, she knows how to make them to go away from me.

But, hey…all this noises is from my mother! It is my mother’s crown of noises…and I cannot do anything. But, she in her own noise of pain, cares for others crown of noises.

This is for all women, who care for others in their own pain.

tomaca

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