Noise

There are many days when the overabundance of noise is irritating. There are other days when what usually is cacophonous becomes melodious. Riding my bike home Thursday night was one of those instances. The car horns weren’t overbearing, but more like a dash of percussion added to an orchestra. The sizzling pressure cooker in the basement of the bike garage was bubbling over and spilling out a delicious odor with its steamy sound. The squeaky bike brakes didn’t sound like nails on a chalkboard, but more like a sign that life was cycling through its daily routine. People on their way home, accented by a clear sunset. A rare day, but a treasured day.