I promise

I can’t sleep in a silent house. Not without those gusts of home that even cover up the low flying planes. You’ll get used to them, I promise. It’s amazing the things you can get used to and I don’t even hear them anymore. Like a house set 20 feet from rows of tracks, the first nights are the hardest with blaring horns and rattling shelves, but it becomes your life in the same way that scars do. They take the place of fresh skin and give you a story to tell or a secret to hold. Scars and trains remain on the surface to fester or fold, it’s never right to let them sink to your organs. But you’ll get used to it, I promise. And sometimes in the middle of the night, you can call out for me and I’ll answer.