Can you hear it?

I went to visit my Mom a couple weekends ago. It always makes me a bit sentimental when I visit.

This time I started thinking about all the little sounds that I love. For instance. When I was in one part of Mom's house, I could hear her and Sam and Madeline in the kitchen. I don't know what was said, all I could hear was the happy sounding voices of my children and my mom giggling. How cute is that?

Later in the day we went to a Hallowe'en Parade. It is held right before Trick or Treat- so everyone - EVERYONE was dressed up (except us). It is a really small town of about 8000 people- but the parade had everything. Firetrucks, floats, Fair queens (even a dam queen), marching bands, and groups of children all dressed up for a costume contest. Amazing.

I always forget how much I love the sound of a Marching Band. It is so Americana- it can almost bring tears to my eyes. In the summer, I can hear our local High School band practicing. It is so quaint.

I love the sound of a train off in the distance. It is a lonely echo.

I love the sound of leaves being raked, and snow shoveled in the winter. I hate that the sound of snowplows have replaced the scrape of blade against sidewalk.

I love the sound of a highway. Weird, I know. But from my house, I can hear Cross County Highway- something about all the movement and tire noise satisfies me. I know all is well in the world- buses, trucks, cars all all traveling, all is well.

I like the sound of a campfire. The crackle of the twigs and popping of the dry tender.

One of the most comforting sounds to me when I was young was when my dad could tap his pipe on the side of his glass ashtray. I would be upstairs in bed- and hear that sound. I knew everything would be ok as long as daddy was down stairs.

My favorite hymn is 'God be with you till we meet again' sung by the Tab.

I love the sounds of birds in the morning. In the early spring when they start to be more active- I love that. There were Mourning Doves in the eves of the house across the street from my parents. Every morning (and evening?)- they would sing their lonely song. No other bird sounds quite like that.

There is a tin roof over the porch at my mom's house. It is right outside the bedroom windows. The house didn't (and still doesn't) have air conditioning, so the windows were left open pretty much all summer long. On a rainy day, the tin roof would sing.

That reminds me how much I enjoy the sound of thunder. The low rumble of building storms. We used to sit on the porch and watch the rain.

When I walk down the hallways at church while classes are in session, I love the different sounds coming from the rooms, specially when there is singing. Men singing in Priesthood- low, meaningful hymns, then on to Primary with the enthusiastic young voices. Last week in Sacrament Meeting we had the opportunity to sit in front of a young girl and her family. She sang every hymn, her sweet voice following along with the words (sometimes a teeny bit late-).

Speaking of last Sunday. The little brother in the family behind us - hummed a little tune while Sacrament was passed. It was sweet, it didn't bother any of us. Then, as time went on, the humming turned in to a little song. Hmmm - Hmmm- Poooo - Poooo ---- Pooooo ---py.
Poooopy - poopy in the pooootty- poopy in the potty. Yep, a little hard to keep reverent- but really cute.

Told you I was a little sentimental.