I have never before lived where I had as much quiet as I have now—even though the freeway noise is a steady, distant hum and there are times when airport traffic is heavy, and there are all the usual sounds of an urban/suburban neighborhood. For a surprising amount of the time, especially when I’m home alone, I enjoy the nearest thing to silence. I notice it, I treasure it, and I would miss it greatly.
Beyond any doubt I would miss all the little sounds that come from my husband’s room (across the hall from mine) during the day: the snick of the mouse, the click of the keyboard, the creak of his desk chair, the soft thunk of his coffee mug coming to rest, the occasional cough, and especially the sudden barks of laughter, typically followed by a forward to my inbox.
He’s a noisy sleeper, too. Sometimes when he keeps me awake to the point that it gets on my nerves, I stop and think, no, I would never trade this for silence.