There is no sound.

         There is quiet.

         Where did the sound go?

         The laugh of Mother as we baked cookies with her in the kitchen, smearing flour and batter on each other?

         The sounds of Father watching football in the living room, standing us to greet us with a smile?

         The joking voice of my older brother as he messed up my hair, my scowl always making everything even more funny?

         The giggles of my younger brother as I chased him around the house, tickling each other and playing hide and seek?

…

…

         There is only quiet.

         Where did the sound go?

         The fast, stern voice of my debate partner as she gave speech after speech?

         The loud, carefree voice of a friend as we sang “Sweet Caroline” at the top of our lungs, off-tune but having fun anyway?

         The quiet, shy voice of my first friend at my new school joining in our conversations, always making us laugh with her jokes?

         The booming, sharp voice of a swim friend cheering me on, despite the fact that I was probably going to lose anyway?

…

…

         There is only quiet.

         Where did the sound go?

         Where? Where? Where? Where?

Wherewherewherewherewherere?

Did it go high up above the clouds in a silver gown, still singing its beautiful laughter, its football sounds, its jokes, its giggles, going away where I can’t find it anymore?

Is it in another world, far, far, far away from the one I am in now, still being fast and stern, loud and carefree, quiet and shy, booming and sharp, the voices still singing their beautiful songs?

…

…

         Where did the sound go?

         The sound replaced by the quiet, stifled sobs of the children around me, the sadness so thick you could hear it singing its painful songs?

…

…

Why did the sound go?