MY FAVORITE SOUND

 

 

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 spotted Santa in the wild.

I tilt my head back like a confused meerkat and 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."

Every time they pass overhead, I make a wish.

Or a prayer.

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

I pray for my kids.

For Erin.

For whoever crossed my mind that day.

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.

Completely necessary.

But here's the thing about geese:

The honking isn't random.

It's how they stay together.

It's how they encourage the goose in front.

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 so much.

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're all just out here flapping our tired wings.

Trying not to crash into power lines. Trying to figure out where north is. Trying to let somebody know…

I'm here.

Are you here?

Okay, good.

Let's go.

For me, it's geese honking. Not because they're beautiful. Not because they're graceful. Not because anyone has ever described a goose as majestic and kept a straight face. I love them because they remind me that nobody gets home alone.

Every flock needs encouragement.

Every journey needs companions.

Every weary traveler needs a voice somewhere in the darkness saying:

Keep going.

I'm still here.

And now, whenever I hear geese overhead, I 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.