quiet

In Nicosia, it seemed like no matter where we went, it was never quiet.  Small roads turned into busy thru-ways, motorcycles zoomed through neighborhoods, and rabid cats sang their daily dumpster serenade.  I grew accustomed to it, I guess, never really realizing how much I was missing the absence of sound.  Then we came home.   Now I hear the wind rattling the windows as a storm rushes up.  There are peacocks in the backyard and a pair of silly dogs barking at the front door.  I hear the leaves outside my window rustle together as a breeze kisses them.  Out back, a fish jumps up out of the river as a rowing team hurries by.  The sounds are so different.  I know that this is our temporary home, but I really do enjoy the peace it offers.