As I sit here writing, it is silent.

It has taken me all year to realise how much I value the occasional stillness of a quiet house.

My partner has taken the dog for a walk; they will return soon. I know I am lucky that these short moments are surrounded by noise, conversation and laughter. But, after spending the year working and living in the same space without the usual distractions of holidays and dinners with our respective friends, sitting alone in silence is rare.

On top of the slow background hum of 2020, we tend to fill any free time after work with TV, music or chatting, but it has made the year feel like a treadmill. One more mile to go. And another. And another. We’ve completed Netflix and Prime and iPlayer. The dog has enjoyed more walks than he thought possible. But time alone to enjoy the company of the person I know most – me – has been scarce.

I could go into a different room when I want downtime, but the tinny murmur of the TV permeates the house in a way that isn’t relaxing. Replacing that noise for another – through headphones – is one option, but there is no way to replicate the joy of silence.

Somehow the noise in an office fades into the background in a way that someone else’s Zoom call at home doesn’t. Working in close proximity with just one ‘colleague’ – and another smaller one, who barks at inopportune times – means there is little time or space to sit and just be.

Of course, there are times when silence is terrifying – when niggling feelings creep in to be pored over and dissected. Or, in the middle of the night, when my brain conjures potential threats and sounds – is someone breaking in, or is it the house settling? And I definitely don’t crave uncomfortable silences, when someone’s said something inappropriate, or the silent treatment during an argument. I don’t want to be ignored, I want the choice of sitting alone, with no expectations of work or chores or attention.

Sure, there are things I could do now. Instead, I let the silence envelop me and listen to the intermittent sounds of the morning: the postie on their rounds, a car passing, my stomach gurgling for breakfast.

I know there will be times in the future when I will wish for the cacophony of a busy house. But, for now, I sit alone in the silence. And this short period of respite is delicious.

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