Listen to the Quiet

“How come you never listen to music?” I asked my mother on the drive home from practice one night. “I prefer listening to the quiet,” she replied. As a 15-year-old teen who couldn’t wait to get home and blast my music, I silently thought, “I’ll never be like you.”

And then it happened. While driving home from the airport recently, I not only noticed the quiet but found it delicious.  In my car there was no screaming baby, repetitive airport announcement or loud cell phone talker letting everyone within 500 feet know about her latest antic. I heard my mother’s voice, “I prefer listening to the quiet,” and finally understood how ignorant I was so many years ago.  Not once had I taken into consideration Mom’s need for downtime after teaching 42 Chicago school children earlier that day, only to know she was returning home to start the second shift. If only I could have chosen compassion over judgment.

My daughter and I went to the gym yesterday and she drove. From the second her car turned over, the blasting music screamed out of every speaker. “I don’t recognize this artist,” I said. “That’s because you haven’t been driving with me lately and you’re always listening to those motivational tapes!” I wonder if she was thinking, “I’ll never be like you.” Little does she know…