"I could hear my heart beating. I could hear everyone's heart. I could hear the human noise we sat there making, not one of us moving, not even when the room went dark."
The noise that Raymond Carver is talking about is one that is unique to each person. The noise that resonates within us all on different wavelengths.
The noise was unlike any other. The noise starts in your ears nut this is where it differs. The human noise for me, flows under my eyelids and swirls in tones of silver and light blue. It tingles along the trail to my nose and brings me home. It brings the smell of your house on a lazy night into my sight.
Thoughts of when my head is tucked right under your chin and you trace slow circles on the back of my arm lingers. There's a smell that I can't quite trace. It's a mix between wood right after rain, cinnamon and the way a new sweater smells right when you get it.
It all swirls together and forms the perfect sense of contentment.
That human noise embodies the inner workings of who we are. That noise is more than a noise it is the blood that trickles into each and every vein. With eyes shut tight and bodies so still it's as if they had never been mobile, the human noise can truly be heard.
The noise is the only thing linking us to one another under the idea of home. It forms the patterns that lay out the life we live and lead us to where we all belong.
Home.
