Busy times of day feel a little bit like a symphony to me. Crescendos and decrescendos of voices moving both independently and in concert with one another. Solos fight for attention by beating back the competing sounds. There is harmony that binds it all together as if a conductor were guiding the players.
Today we have dad on the phone doing a consultation in his deep, calm, clear ‘therapist voice’, Scout meowing piercingly at the door to be let outside, child#4 singing a refrain over and over in his newly-aquired bass tone, children 5 and 6 providing percussion as they knock insistently on the bathroom door, child#3 drives the soprano line over all with an aria of complaints and miseries. Opening and closing of silverware drawers, blowdryers driving background line, bowls meeting tables, sliding of chair legs, tumbling of ice cubes, faucets on and off, tap tap of Stella’s paws moving stealthily along the kitchen floor to scoop up any discarded crumbs….then…it all freezes….the alto line from child#5 takes over the piece with a cry of anger
“Stop pretending there is hair in the food. You know that really makes me want to puke!”
The room is quiet.
Giggles bubble up and grow to fill the room for a rousing finish and resolve the dissonance like the chorus of happy strings at the end of a concert.
The bus arrives. They are out of the door. The house is silent. The piece is over.