Listening

Vanessa's development into an adult may have easily started with her constant eavesdropping. It is near impossible to write convincingly about a subject without an understanding and our education starts with aural experience. We learn not only from what we are taught through reading, but from what we hear in the world around us. I think back to the days when much more of my life belonged to my parents, when I would not make as many serious decisions, when consequences did not require my input.

After bedtime I would lie wide awake in the dark, straining for the signs of conversation in the living room downstairs. At the slightest hint of discussion, I would tiptoe slowly out my door and down the hall (I never figured out which was quieter, stocking or bare feet). The hardwood floor of the hallway and aging stairs rarely accepted my presence without a few creaking complaints, each of which would stop me short, holding my breath and hoping I hadn't blown my cover.

Once at the top of the stairs, I would descend just two or three steps to gain the best point of hearing without being seen. It was from those top steps that I first began to understand that there was often much more to what I wanted and needed than I could comprehend. Some discussions would yield previews of my punishments or gains, but in those days Dad's hearing was more perceptive and I rarely made it to that last greedy stair without being discovered.

Still, from my perch I began to learn, even if I didn't yet possess the worldly knowledge to fit each piece of the puzzle into a cohesive diagram. I have since gained more respect for their discussions; becoming a young adult has afforded me the chance to speak for myself and an equal opinion in family decisions, yet I can't help but recognize Vanessa's escapades a necessary of a curious only child's education.