“LAKESIDE REVIEW”
Around 1982
And so we moved—picked up our pots and pans, carted off our clothes and canned goods, bundled up our bedding, and trucked away the trappings of our suburban lifestyle, to settle far out in the country.
My husband was exuberant over the change. “Ah, this is the life,” he jubilated with a gesture that encompassed a meadow-like expanse of unfenced green behind our newly built home.
I was not totally convinced. “We’ll certainly have to be more organized down here,” I said, wondering if the grocery checkers at the now far-away market would miss my daily patronage.
“But, we’ll grow a bumper garden crop,” my optimistic spouse replied. Picking up a brown clod, he let the fine warm sand trickle between his fingers. “And it’s so peaceful here.”
“Way down here, we’ll have to budget more for gasoline,” I had to interject.
“We’ll go for walks in country air,” came his response. He took a luxuriant breath and continued, “Just listen to the calm…”
I listened. Two begoggled flies played Kamikaze pilot with my nose. “We’ll have to buy a dozen No-Pest Strips.”
“But for such peace and quiet! It’s a trade-off for tranquility.”
“There’ll be no more doorstep mail delivery,” I sighed.
“No more door-to-door salesmen,” he countered.
“No next-door neighbors,” I cried.
“No freeway noise, no airplane flight patterns, no recess bells at noon,” he rejoined in rapid fire.
I had the next part memorized. I’d heard the words so many times before: “Serenity. We’ll sleep like babies, awakening refreshed.”
That evening we tried it out. Turning off the bedroom light, I slipped between fresh sheets crisped by country air. Cool shadows merged to inky black, and I marveled at the soothing absence of people-perpetuated noise. Only a courting insect whispered chirrups to his mate.
But before I drifted off in awe of the almost perfect stillness of night, I opened one eye. The moon had moved to a spot directly above our partially opened window, and I could see my tired husband where he sat bolt upright on the edge of the bed. Dark circles of fatigue made purple splotches underneath his bleary eyes.
“That blasted cricket,” David groaned, “is driving me berserk!”
