Judy Barrat

Click

When one lives in a multiplex

doors slam at all hours of day 

and night.  you stop noticing 

after a while – the doors, the 

television heard through

the wall shared with a near 

deaf neighbor, loud music 

from everywhere especially 

in summer when windows 

and doors remain open 

in homes and in cars as they 

move down your street

Most days I’ve easily ignored 

the sounds -- even of my own 

front door closing or slamming 

as the kids left in a hurry.  I was 

rarely awakened even on those 

mornings I slept late and they left 

in a noisy rush – until the summer 

my son was hired as a lifeguard 

at the beach.  

No matter that he was a strong 

swimmer, on the swim team at 

school – 

        that was swimming in a pool. 

The ocean is a fierce competitor. 

Powerful. Deceptive. Devious.  

I recalled how as a child I saw a 

drowned man pulled from the surf 

and my own father’s terror when 

he was unable to fight a rip tide 

without assistance.

My son was excited, his mother not.

That summer no matter what wee 

hour of a morning I finally retired 

to bed I was kept awake by unceasing

apprehension of that quiet click of the 

carefully closed door as he left each 

morning – 

“keep him safe” I chanted 

to no one in particular.