Crickets
Sometimes an irritating chirp can lead us home. This piece traces the journey from experience to integration—when what once hid in silence becomes a voice that stays.
Take time to read—or listen—and find the chirp in your heart.
It’s been a cold winter—inside and out. I long for the light of spring—and then, the warmth of summer.
But with every change of seasons, life is never perfect.
I love silence, but crickets can sometimes be annoying—reminding me of my humanness, the pain and the joy. They go hand in hand.
It feels like crickets have something to say but can’t quite find the courage to say it.
It’s like they want to be heard but don’t want to be found—and held accountable for their actions. I know what that’s about. I’ve hidden there before.
Silence sucks when there’s an irritating putdown in between, no matter where it’s coming from—even inside ourselves. I’m sure many of you know this, too.
I hate to admit it. There’s no trial when I find them hiding behind the garbage can, or somewhere hard to reach in my garage.
They meet a quick demise. No shame—well, maybe a little. I wouldn’t want to be in their shoes… or under mine.
I wonder if they got lost or were just searching for love. I’ll think about that tomorrow. I just need to get some sleep.
Not yet, I feel some anger lingering that was never expressed. I‘m a little scared. I could never say that out loud.
Well, I just did, and it didn’t kill me. I actually feel some relief—calmness, light—the light of invisibility.
Okay… now I feel a wave of sadness. That’s a familiar tune—old family stuff, about feeling lost and alone. Way too many of us feel this way right now.
I can‘t find the key… and I’m too tired to look for it. Oh, it’s right next to me—my sweet wife.
She understands what’s important—the little things that make us who we are. And we stop in our tracks to delight in them—turning defeats into celebrations.
We refer to them as our “projects,” like her crafts and my writing—which mean so much to us, to each other, and to so many others.
That’s our Core Self—not irritation. And far from little.
Just silence now. Only the sound of my white noise machine and my wife’s breathing—a nice harmony. I miss my little cricket.
Hand on heart. There he is. I whisper, “You live in my heart—always have—always will.” I tell him that he has a lot to say. He’s safe now.
I’m his voice…the man he grew up to be.
Suddenly, it feels like a faint chirp in my heart. He was never the problem—just waiting to be heard.
He knows I hear him. He’s okay now. Big men speak from their heart.
Time travels quickly. I’m sitting on the back porch with my family, the sun setting after a warm summer day.
I hear nature’s music blending with my own, connecting head and heart—revealing the bigger picture inside and around me.
Crickets... just crickets. I love crickets.
I really love crickets. I’m home—not the last chirp, but a new beginning.
Even when I’m gone, I hope the chirp will still be heard inside you—and beyond the stars.
Just me. Now you—all of you.
Love. Crickets...
Gratitude: In appreciation of those who have shared their light and sweetness with me over the years—and received mine.
Confidentiality note: Any resemblance to your own life is both coincidental and universal—reminding us that our stories echo one another in the shared fabric of human experience.
Comments or questions? Email me at mcecilvt@aol.com. Feel free to share these words—and this blog—with anyone you hold close or long to be held.
Dr. Cecil is a licensed psychologist, certified AEDP supervisor, approved EMDR consultant, and senior CSRT consultant. He specializes in treating complex relational, developmental, and transgenerational trauma, bringing therapy to life through heartfelt stories and images of connection and healing that emerge from the light of invisibility.