A Winter’s Walk

I push the door open, leaving my office building lost in thoughts of dinner, but I hear the bustling activity of people and cars near me. At the corner, I slip on gloves as I wait for the signal to change.

Traffic rushes past me, a blur in my eyes. The wind picks up. I wince and lift my hood over my ears, tucking in my hair.

A halo of warmth covers my head under the puffy, black fabric. The hood muffles the city noise, creating a softened song for my ears. Initially, I like this. I continue walking the sidewalk to my bus stop, blinking store fronts and empty benches greet me, no people.

I wait for my bus. Cars turn onto the roadway without the crunch of tires on gravel. Businessmen walk by without the warning sound of footfalls. I realize that without loud sound, environment information is delayed. I don’t hear as well with my hood up, but it’s cold and I don’t want to sacrifice the comfort.

Every item I think of that covers a head–hats, hoods, wraps, earmuffs–all distort sound, too. Are my ears destined to be pink if I want to catch the surrounding audio in the wintertime?

My bus arrives, bringing a heated space with it. I board and settle in, hood down, ears listening all around.

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2 Comments Add yours

  1. Trisha says:

    Wearing things that cover my ears bothers me too. I especially don’t like the way people seem to suddenly appear right beside me because I don’t hear them coming. But, like you, I don’t want to give up the comfort of warm ears!

    1. Yes, it’s like people appear out of thin air, apparating like Harry Potter characters.

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