My window of opportunity has continued for weeks now and I have been free from the darkness of depression. I have welcomed the bright light from the window and I have been writing stories from my childhood. A major theme of my stories has to do with what I call my old friend silence.

From as early as I can remember silence has been a friend. It has been a playful place inside my imagination where make believe is alive and well. Solitary play has been my favorite time of all. Even today I take some measure of enjoyment in being with my silence. I imagine other stories and dream of having the joy of many animals in my life.

But in my younger years I was awkward being with other children. In spite of the obstacles I remember wearing my Daddies floppy felt hat while playing in the back yard. There were huge trees and branches covering the back edge of the yard. There was a broken down out-house that made me feel creepy. I just knew that snakes and spiders lived inside and it represented unknown danger in my make believe stories. Most of my imagining involved whistling and musical stories. Occasionally there was the out-house to include in a creepy kind of story that made me run fast to the house.

Over time a voice inside was critical of me because I was silent and did not know how to play with other kids. When I was able to make the voice go away my lovely solitary play returned and there was fun, just me and the silence.

My first babysitter tarnished my friend silence in a punishing way .The following is a story about how my lyrical silence was threatened by interludes of sadness and shame.

Tommy’s Trains

Letha was my first babysitter and Tommy was her only child. He had more toys than I had ever seen. I was not use to toys; I enjoyed imaginative play and never really wanted many toys. Tommy’s room was filled with neatly organized toys of all kinds.

The best toy ever was a train that filled his floor. I timidly watched for a while as Tommy took control of the train. It zoomed along the tracks as smoke came out of the engine stack. After a while I sat closer to have a better look. I didn’t dare ask for the controls. Letha would occasionally come to the room and see how we were doing. She was stern and predictable and I was somewhat afraid of her.

One day Tommy was in the bathroom and I quietly took control of the train. It was so exciting until Tommy returned with Letha close behind. She made it clear that under no circumstances was I to play with Tommy’s toys. I was humiliated and readily accepted her limits. From that time on I sat in a chair and watched Tommy play with trains, cowboy outfits and games. I did not say a word but there were feelings and thoughts that went around and around in my mind. This kind of silence was not a welcome friend and I was sad.