How it Ends (Introduction)

And there, rising softly from my soul, I heard singing.

It nudged me awake, then vanished. Face squished against the cold window, legs akimbo to my curled torso, I groaned as I sat up from the reclined passenger seat. Dave was driving, eyes fixed on the traffic as he changed lanes.

“Where are we? Is it my turn to drive?”

“Chicago. You ok?

“What was it that I was singing?”

“Singing?  It’s been quiet, you’ve been asleep since Fort Wayne.”

Maybe I’d heard the radio. Did he turn it on to wake me? No. Why were we in Chicago? I don’t remember driving through Fort Wayne. Had I played an audition there? No, that was years ago, and I went by myself to that.

“I don’t understand. Why was I singing? Was it in English?”

“There’s no singing. Take a big breath, look out the window. We’re in the car, the outer belt around Chicago, headed home. Remember we were in court, and we had lunch with Lee afterwards at Bun’s Restaurant? It’s all over.”

An unfamiliar absence of sounds inside puzzled me. I searched for the howling, the chatter, the warning sounds. I dug into my temples with my fingertips, scanning the emptiness. What was this odd, alien non-sound place?

“Dave, it’s gone. The howling and the noises. I can’t hear any of it!”

Dave reached over and squeezed my hand. His familiar, soothing touch calmed me. This was big, and he knew it too. Glancing over to meet my eyes, he ventured an encouraging smile.

“What’s it like, is it totally quiet? Do you hear anything else?”

And the singing returned. She was still there. After all these years, still singing with the trees.