What am I choosing to hear?

People have different tastes in music, food, movies. What's right for one may just be wrong for another.



I'm snug in our old bed in our new temporary bedroom. John is watching a movie both of us know he will enjoy but I won't. It works.

A few minutes ago, I realized I was hearing the sound of gunfire, screaming, suffering. It doesn't matter that it's "not real," that the actors aren't hurt and the gunfire and agony aren't real. It burrows into my being and stays there, long after.

Tonight, I remembered I have choices to make every moment. So I chose to turn on our "going to sleep" CD -- loud.

I'm sure John can't hear it in the living room where he's still watching the movie. And now, I can only hear resonating deep tones and sustained chords played on stringed instruments, punctuated by hauntingly lingering notes of a piano.

A better choice for my peace of mind.