We have stopped riding at a river. I peer at a raging waterfall and then to the sky, so open. My friend Glaya sits atop her horse, speckled with a mixture of amazement and befuddlement. She smiles at me, and I smile back.

Imagine living everyday with silence. It is peaceful. But it is also unnerving. One never knows what’s to come next when they can hardly tell what lurks behind.

A shadow moves over my face—Glaya, waving her hand to catch my attention. She signs to me. “Why have we come here?” she says.

I scan the open fields, hills, and flowers with trees set atop great mountains in the distance, once more. The wind is cool on my face, and I breathe it in. This is my favorite spot to go when I need an escape. I unwind here and truly begin to think upon the events of my life; the beauty of little things too, and how those little things can make your heart slow just enough to lend you a moments bliss.

I can feel my friends impatience next to me. Finally, I meet her eyes, and use my hands to form words. “This is my relief,” I reply.

“It is enchanting.” She nods with an understanding expression.

A moments silence. Glayas head turns upward, suddenly. A flock of birds fly overhead in a race to see who can get to the destination they seek, first.

I form my mouth the right way to say “Hey.” Glaya turns her head and giggles. “Have I said something wrong?” I ask.

She shakes her head. “No,” she explains. “The way you speak is funny.”

“What does it sound like?” I sign.

Her head tilts. “Well, you sometimes say ‘hell’ in the place of—”

“Not my pronunciation—this place.”

She nods and opens her mouth in realization. It takes a still moment before she responds. I know this must be difficult. How do you explain sound to someone who’s never heard a thing in their life?

After closing her eyes, she regards me with a face full of pure calm. “Like you imagine.”

That’s what I was expecting. And I don’t know how to imagine anything I’ve never heard before.

“I apologize,” she says. My face must have releaved my dissatisfaction.

“Let’s head back.” I pull on the reins of my horse. The brown mare turns and the picture of rivers and waterfalls, wild beasts, and swaying grass is left behind. I don’t check to see if Glaya is following. I know she can’t help it. I know not everyone longs to hear, but I do. One could say I’ve never gotten used to it. Perhaps I never will.

Hopefully scenery is just as beautiful as sound. It’s melodic in its own way.