Absence

My son took a test at school — the kind that involves dozens of students sitting at desks in a large auditorium.

As he explained it, the test was briefly interrupted not by a commotion, but by its absence. At one point, the ventilation fans — whose industrial hum had been so constant as to be invisible — the fans suddenly stopped. And there was an unexpected silence. A silence that was disruptive because it suddenly revealed that what previously felt like quiet was not quiet at all.

Absence, as much as presence, prompts us to take inventory.