First Night in City Apartment
My nocturnal symphony—cricket cellists, owls on bassoons, raccoon’s racket, dogs baying at the moon, creek gurgles, bonfire crackles—vanished, evaporated, or drowned. Instead: heavy footsteps, doors shuttering, engines barking, horns yelling, brakes hissing, sirens whistling, voices dancing, rap music rattling, and the clank-and-crash of trash tossed into the bin.
The cacophony finally lessens; I nestle in. Until the upstairs neighbors start a rhythmic love-making session above my head. I lie in bed, hugging knees to chest—for the first time, but not the last time—violently alone, missing home.
Bethany Jarmul is a writer, editor, and poet. Her work has appeared in more than 50 literary magazines and been nominated for Best of the Net and Best Spiritual Literature. Bethany enjoys chai lattes, nature walks, and memoirs. She lives near Pittsburgh with her family. Connect with her at bethanyjarmul.com or on Twitter @BethanyJarmul.