"The Piano" week

Every year in Texas, usually in the spring, we get high cedar pollen counts. People refer to it as "cedar fever" and before you know it, everyone is hacking and sales of Mucinex go through the roof in order to combat it. I was hit by "cedar fever" this week. It started with a tickle in the back of my throat, then the roof of my mouth started to itch and next thing I knew, I was coughing away to no avail. Invariably, my voice gets husky and within a day or two, I lose my voice for a day or so. While I wouldn't say I look forward to cedar fever, I must confess that I'm always a little relieved when I get those few days to be mute. I refer to them as "My Piano" episodes. I get to be Holly Hunter with every one talking around me and ignoring me while I am relieved of all social obligations except for the occasional weak smile. I LOVE my job, my family and my friends. Usually I am more than happy to be in the mix, but when my Piano episodes come around, I am reminded how heavy the burdens of social obligations are. It's during these silent times that I fantasize about being cloistered with a vow of silence.

Now, I know I wouldn't be happy to be silent ALL the time, but the peace of being mute is incredibly attractive to me. Especially in the silence of winter... well, I mean a northern winter. The kind of days when your frosty breath hangs in the air in front of you and the only sound that you can hear is the wind whispering over the snow. There are no lapping waves, no bird cries or the sound of the leaves talking to each other. The grass lays bowed under the weight of the snow, animals curl up in their burrows waiting, and there's just you and the bare branches reaching into the sky. Silence.

I wonder to myself, what if I moved away to an exotic location and was not able to communicate. Would I play mute? Would I have the strength to stay mute?