The Cricket, My Friend?

The sound was was so familiar.. A piercing sound emanating from my past was suddenly here again letting me know it was in the house. I walked to the garage to see where it was hidng. The chirping stopped then resumed once I began speaking to it. What had changed?

I was living in a new reality. Suddenly the sound of a cricket living nearby was welcome and comforting to me. How could that be? I was not annoyed by its piercing call to its family. But I might be with more lying in wait. Context was important.

I began speaking, in hushed tones, in this adjacent space called a garage. The company was appreciated. He had to know. The sound stopped as I walked to see where he might be. But really. I did not care. Just being here was all that mattered. In the past this noise would have been sought out for evacuation. But not now. I enjoyed the comraderie, the conversation. Had my standards been lowered? No, they had changed. That is all.

The cricket was here and so was I. In the house I listened. The voice was gone if only for a moment. Then it began again. It's noticeable sound a calming reminder that company was here, a friend from our past. Its presence was to acknowledge to me that some things can change. I had felt it. Punctuating the silence of the night was a welcome nuance. I could sleep with that cricket sound both familiar and comforting. The mind helps when we begin to see things differently. I even smiled.

As time marches on, have our thoughts on animals changed, too? I hope so. As a little girl, in the 50's 'pork' was never associated with pigs those clean, intelligent and social creatures. Veal, oh my, was the worst. Baby cows being nurtured for a few months till 'it was time'. How could they! Then charbroiled steaks from sweet, lovable cows to that place of horror. Imagine being a butcher. Can't be easy at all. ......But for now, I listen to the cricket.