Boarders, Volume 4

The house vibrates. It’s subtle to me, but Heidi is much more sensitive to things like that, to the shaking of the wall, and to the noise that interrupts her prized sleep. It’s almost like the perfect storm, this being on pause, this waiting for the building to begin, because it gives more reasons to pause longer. First it was the noise from the road that goes right by the house, but we can make our peace with that, but this noise — this vibration — might be the deal breaker.

And it scares me. I’ll admit that right off. It scares me because I don’t like being in limbo. At least the limbo I thought I was in had some sort of end date. We moved from our house because of the pot of gold at the end of the proverbial rainbow, but the closing is delayed, and the noise is disturbing sleep patterns. Now I don’t know if that gold I was hoping for is indeed gold or merely gold-plated, merely fool’s gold. I don’t want to be a fool.

It’s 8 o’clock in the evening, and I think I can detect the noise from the farm across the street. I don’t know if there is a solution that can deal with it, or if it’s something that is an acquired taste. Might it eventually fade from our consciousness the longer we’re exposed to it? Or will it keep pounding into my wife’s skull every single morning, making her wish we hadn’t decided to build across the street from what sounds like a working blacksmith’s shop?

Therein lies the rub. So many questions now, when it seemed like all we had were answers, you know, before we moved out of our cocoon, hoping we would soon be butterflies. Maybe that can still happen, but for now I’m vibrating, and not in the good way.

Sam

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