Loud. Dangerous. Busy. Living next to a highway is many things. You moved from a house surround by familiar people with familiar plans, to a house next to the highway. Bigger. Newer. Colder. You sat on the couch with the highway to your back. Listening to the sounds of cars with unknown people racing toward unknown destinations.
In the summer the little town you live in will fill up with tourists. Lenox is home to Tanglewood and the Boston Symphony Orchestra, and Herman Melville. The highway will buzz at all hours with people from all over. Mid august the rush will die down. The accents will grow fewer. The buzz will simmer. The foliage brings a familiar sound as you stand at your window watching the cars speed by. The first snow is exhilarating. As you stand at your window the cars will rush by heading home to curl up under a blanket. You look out your window at the highway.
One. Two. Three. You hold your breath. Listening to the wind in the trees. Listening to the silence. The world gets louder and you open your eyes. Headlights reveal snow covered trees across the street and the silence is gone. One. Two. There.
