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I am in love with sound. I mean, I am afraid of silence. I mean, I am used to a house full of a dog barking and a trumpet upstairs and my brother and sister’s voices in the kitchen.  When my sister leaves for college, she takes her trumpet and her voice with her. I am learning to fill the silence. I wonder if this is what it means to move forward, this quiet that stays behind. I join drumline, stand next to snare drums and this, this is finally noise, I am in love with noise, marching season ends and there are no more snare drums and my sister’s trumpet is halfway across the country and I am afraid of silence. I hear a trumpet warming up in a practice room, and I think those scales turn me back into a person. There are still voices in my kitchen. I saw a poster once, big black letters saying, perhaps it is music that will save the world. I think, the poster was so, so close to the point, I think, the poster was wrong. It is not that music will save the world, but that silence will end it.


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