Years ago, when I was a young'un (I'd say I was about 13 or 14), I received two behind-the-ear aids.  Now, back then,  BTE models weren't the small, discreet ones you can get nowadays.  They were huge and made you look like one of those aliens in the cantina scene in the first Star Wars movie.  Forget about trying to "fit in" or remain inconspicious.  You couldn't be more obvious if you stood in the middle of an intersection, spun in circles, and screamed, "Look at me!!!"

I digress.  I went through all the testing and endured the thoughtful looks of the audiologist as they confirmed that, yup, my ears were operating at way less than full capacity.  Whew, thank God they were there to tell me that.  I would hate to think that the years I spent asking people to repeat themselves and popping Tylenol to deal with the headaches associated with lip-reading were nothing more than a PRODUCT OF MY FREAKING IMAGINATION.

So I got the aids.  I remember being relieved because I didn't have that annoying cord that attached the two units resting on the back of my neck any longer.  That thing ITCHED.  It was great for pretending that my BTEs were a futuristic nunchuck (HI-YAHH!!!), not so much for comfort.  This was the early '80s, mind you, so technology was nowhere near as advanced as it is now.  

Damn, you  young whippersnappers today are SPOILED.

Anyhoo, a couple of days after I get these things, my mother and I were leaving on a trip.  We got up early in the morning, a sure sign that God has it in for me.  I get dressed, slap the BTEs on, and meander outside.

It was still dark.  It was that time of night where the world just STOPS.  Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse . . . sorry, couldn't resist.

I heard something.  It was low and incessant.  It was making me nuts so I asked Mom, "What am I hearing?"

Mom stopped, tilted her head, and listened.  She smiled.

"Those are crickets."

I had never heard crickets before.  "So that's what they sound like."

I have NO idea why I'm remembering this now.  NO, it's NOT because I wish I were hearing.  Maybe it was the uniqueness of the experience, a reminder that we need to slow down and develop an appreciation for the beauty of the ENTIRE world, not just our little corner of it.