⏱ ~4 min reading
Sofiyka loved music. She had a little pink speaker that her dad had given her for Christmas. It connected to her mom's phone, and Sofiyka would play her favorite songs—about the sun, about the cow, about the little train.
When the music was playing loudly, Sofiyka would fly around the room. She would jump, spin, and sing along. It seemed to her that the music entered every cell of her body, and her feet would dance on their own, even if she didn't ask them to.
That morning, Sofiyka turned the speaker on full blast. The song about a spider crawling on a thread was so loud that even the cup on the table tinkled a little. Sofiyka jumped on the carpet like a baby kangaroo.
She was fine. Very fine.
When the song ended, Sofiyka heard a knock. Not on the door, but on the wall. Knock-knock-knock. Someone was knocking from behind the wall.
Sofiyka froze. Mom came in from the kitchen. Mom had flour on her apron - Mom was baking pancakes.
— Sophie, did you hear?
— Someone is knocking.
— It's Aunt Galya from the wall. Do you know why she's knocking?
— Why?
— Because it's loud.
Sophie frowned.
"Why is it so loud? This is my room.".
Mom sat down on the carpet. She wiped her hands on her apron.
"Sophia, come here. I'll tell you something.".
Sofiyka sat down next to her. Her mother hugged her with one arm.
— Do you see the wall? It seems like there's nothing behind it. Just a wall. But in fact, Aunt Galya lives behind it. She has her own room, a sofa, a kettle. Aunt Galya has a headache today — she told me yesterday in the elevator. She went to lie down to rest.
— I didn't know…
— Of course I didn't know. Because we can't see others through the walls. But they're there. And when we turn on the music really loud, she goes to them too. She goes into their room without asking permission.
Sofiyka thought. She felt uncomfortable. She didn't want to go to Aunt Gali's. She just wanted to dance.
— Mom, how about dancing?
— It can be quieter. Or with headphones when dad comes home from work with them. Or loudly — but during the day, for a short time. And when someone is sleeping behind the wall — ask for a quiet song.
— And I didn't know it was necessary...
"That's why I'm telling you. It's called living close together. When there are so many people in one house, everyone is a little quieter than they could be alone. And that's good for everyone.".
Sofiyka nodded. She took the speaker, turned the volume down, and put on a new song—about a blue whale.
She danced now not like a kangaroo, but like a fish. Quietly. Smoothly. She waved her arms like a tail.
After a while, Sofiyka went out onto the stairwell. She wanted to check if Aunt Gali was okay.
On the stairs she met Aunt Galya, who was taking out the trash.
"Aunt Galya," said Sofiyka quietly. "Sorry for being so loud. I won't be anymore.".
Aunt Galya stopped. She looked Sofiyka up and down. She had a nice face—the wrinkles were as if she often smiled.
— Oh, baby. I didn't mean to fight. Just a little bit of a headache today. And you — dance. Just a little quieter. Got it?
— Agreed.
Aunt Galya patted her on the head and walked on.
At home, Sofiyka told her mother. Her mother smiled.
"You see how simple it is. I said 'sorry' and everything is fine.".
From that day on, Sofiyka turned on the speaker differently. First, she would think about whether her dad was home, whether her brother was sleeping, or whether she could hear Aunt Gali's TV behind the wall. Then she would choose the volume.
At first it seemed to her that it was limiting. And then it became even more interesting. Because quiet music also dances - just not with her feet, but with her fingertips.
And in the evenings, when everyone went to bed, Sofiyka lay and listened to the silence. Silence can also be different. The silence in which others live. The silence of respect.
💡 A loud sound in a shared home is a small inattention to those nearby.