My Favorite Sound

Confession:

My favorite sound in the entire universe… is geese honking.

Yes. Geese.

Honking.

Like rusty bicycle horns.

Like a trumpet played by someone with a head cold.

Like a clown car had a baby with a foghorn.

It’s not soothing.

It’s not “spa music.”

It’s not what calm people listen to while lying on yoga bolsters made of ethically sourced buckwheat.

But still—

I love it.

Most people hear geese and think:

chaos, poop, lawsuits waiting to happen.

And honestly? Fair.

A goose will chase a grown adult across a public park with the confidence of someone who has never paid taxes and never will.

But when I hear geese?

I think one thing:

Magic.

When I’m out walking and I hear them overhead, I freeze.

Every time.

Like a five-year-old who just saw Santa in the wild.

I tilt my head back like a confused meerkat.

I watch the little flying V make its way across the sky.

And I stay there—absolutely still—until the whole flock passes.

Respect, after all.

And winter honks?

Those are elite.

Hall of Fame honks.

When the world is cold and bluish and quiet, you can actually hear their wings pushing through the air.

That soft whoosh.

That determined rhythm.

That sound of effort and devotion and “Come on, Sheila, we talked about this, keep up.”

And every time they pass overhead, I make a wish. Or a prayer.

Or a wish-prayer combo platter that definitely confuses God, but He humors me because He’s kind like that.

I pray for my kids.

For Erin.

For someone who crossed my mind.

And—when I’m feeling especially brave—

for myself.

(Why does praying for yourself feel like asking God to proofread your diary? Deeply vulnerable. Mildly embarrassing. Necessary.)

But here’s the thing about geese:

The honking?

IT IS NOT RANDOM.

It’s how they stay together.

It’s how they encourage the goose in front of them.

It’s how they say:

Keep going.

You’re not alone.

I’m right here.

We’re doing this together.

And maybe that’s why I love it.

Because isn’t that what we’re all trying to do? Honking our messy, awkward, imperfect little honks into the sky—

hoping our people hear us and honk back:

“STILL WITH YOU!”

We are all just out here flapping our tired wings, trying not to crash into power lines, trying to make it to wherever “north” is, trying to let someone know:

I’m here.

Are you here?

Okay good. Let’s go.”

So I want to ask you something:

What’s your sound?

What ordinary noise pulls you back into the miracle of being alive? What sound reminds you you’re part of a flock?

For me, it’s geese honking.

And now, when you hear them, I hope you remember this:

Sometimes the ugliest noises are the ones that save us. Sometimes the thing everyone rolls their eyes at is the sound carrying us home. And maybe—just maybe we were never meant to fly quietly.