Howl

I don’t know who came up with the idea of howling outside every night at 8 pm, but I started doing it a few days ago. Since I work from home, I don’t talk all that much, so the first couple of nights, I played my horn instead. I wanted something that would attract attention and make noise; my husband’s job was to just howl along. If you have no clue what I’m talking about, it’s just a way for those of us in the US to show a little solidarity and do something together — for just one minute — at 8 pm local time.

Mind you, when I’ve played my horn, I can’t hear if others are also howling because they’re at a distance. A couple of nights ago as we were sitting outside, we both just raised our voices; not only did some neighborhood dogs join in, but we heard neighbors a couple of blocks away start to howl. What an odd feeling it was; strangers, raising their voices along with us, all of us for our own reasons. But last night, no one howled with us and while I felt the connection the night before, I felt nearly foolish last night. And I have a Zoom meeting tonight at 8 — should I howl at the meeting? It’s an odd thing to do on a nightly basis, but there’s a quality to it that I really can’t explain.

Howl! Yip! Bark!

It’s cathartic to let that howl out, and everyone has their own reasons to do it. Maybe you’ve lost someone important in your life, or fear that you will. Maybe you’re just frustrated because you’re an essential worker and these are trying times. Maybe you’re among the unemployed, rent is due, and you have no way to pay it. Maybe you’re just scared and need an outlet. Or maybe you do it for healthcare workers and others who have gone the extra mile and put their own lives on the line.

It doesn’t really matter if anyone else knows why we raise our voices in unison; for me, in the moment I heard my neighbors, it was the reminder that while we might be observing quarantine in our homes and living purposely small lives at the moment, the community still surrounds us and exists. We are not alone, and perhaps that’s what matters, most.

I’ve been doing a lot of things to make sure the pressure doesn’t build within me; my husband and I have taken walks every day. I’ve gardened, I’ve listened to the songs of birds, I’ve cleaned like crazy. My doorknobs and light switches have never been cleaner. I’ve made face masks. This has all been in addition to the normal bricks of my life, including work and family. But finding a connection with others in my community, even if they are nameless strangers blocks away, is a nice reminder that we’re all human and all in this together.

Howling in Fayetteville, Arkansas

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