What I Hear: Walking My Dog

            It’s time for my dog’s last walk of the day, sometime after 10pm. I head out onto 57^th Street in Elmhurst, Queens; a pretty busy street at most times of the day. It’s quiet but not without sound. Cars drive by and I can hear the wet tires zoom across the pavement. A bus rushes past me, squeaking and rattling as it reaches its stop. A group of teenagers chat about school as they get on the bus, the sound of exhaust hissing from the bus as the doors close and begins moving again. As I walk I hear my dog’s tags rattle together. She huffs and puffs through her stubby bulldog nose. I can hear the squishy sound of her tongue as she licks her nose. She stops to sniff a pile of leaves, exhaling and inhaling in short bursts, blowing the dead leaves away.

            I turn the corner away from the busy street. No cars or buses and it’s almost completely quiet. As I listen more closely on the quieter street I hear the trees rustling against each other as the wind blows through the branches. The wind picks up and I feel it howling inside my hood, muffling everything else. The wind blows some stray leaves around, they scratch across the sidewalk. I turn the block again and back onto the busy street I live on. More cars rush by and the sound of the wind and the leaves is drowned out by the traffic, but it’s still audible once you've heard it.