Saturday, May 14, 2016

I know what I heard...

Recently, I had stopped by mom's house and I was in her backyard looking over to gram's house, my mind recalling, as it often does, memories of how the place had always been full of life. I pictured gram's car parked under the carport, her working in the yard, the sound of her television drifting out onto the screened-in front porch where she would often hang her laundry.  

And then I heard it. The ringing of a telephone. And it was coming from that house.
Grams's old wall-mounted rotary. Her
touch phone looked just like it.





The ring was that of a 70's/80's wall phone that hung in her kitchen and bedroom for years. Even when she finally broke down and placed a cordless phone by her recliner in the living room, she still had at least one of those old phones. The ring had always been loud and distinct.
 
"There's no way," I thought to myself. After all, I had the phone disconnected almost a year ago.

And yet, I know what I heard.
I moved a few steps in the direction of gram's house and stopped. I cocked my right ear and then I heard it again. It was without question, that phone.

So many thoughts went through my mind, one of first (and most ridiculous) being "if a phone rang in that house I shouldn't be able to hear it, except...those two small windows are cracked open." There I was rationalizing to myself that's why I could hear the ringing of a phone that had been disconnected nearly a year ago!

I looked around for any other possible sources of the sound. With the exception of the occasional bird, the breeze and the gentle rustling of tree branches swaying, and there was nothing that accounted for it.

I moved a little away from mom's house and her central A/C unit thinking perhaps that was creating some sort of echo or other effect that could've caused it. Now not quite mid-point between the two houses, I held my breath and waited again.  And there it was.

I believe I heard it at least three times, maybe four, I can't remember. I stood out there for I don't know how long, waiting for it again, wondering if maybe my mind had been playing tricks on me. I just had to be sure. I waited a few moments. Nothing. I turned and went back into mom's house and told her what happened. 

Mom thinks it's possible grams was trying to communicate with me. After all, we'd been very close all my life and her death was very traumatic for me. Was she trying to let me know that she was with me? 

Now, I imagine most people's first response in reading this is that it was a figment of my imagination or it was some other sound. And maybe you're right. After all, Occam's Razor's dictates that the simplest answer tends to be the right one. The simplest answer here is that it was a natural sound, something that caused an echo in my ear that sounded like a phone.  It's hard to argue with that. 

But the thing is, I know what I heard. 

Grams loved to cook. Here she is making meatballs and sauce, one of our faves!