This week I've been sorting through some folders of my past writings. I discovered a scribbled draft titled, "My changing relationship to typed words." In the first paragraph there's reference to my mother's typewriter and my reaction to it.
To me, the sound of typing was like a lullaby.
My mother often typed letters on her old manual typewriter, and did so when she had quiet periods, such as my nap-time, or just after she had put me to bed in the evening. So typewriter sounds were both familiar and comforting to me from a very early age.
Her desk with the typewriter on it was close to my bedroom – just outside my door, in the entrance to the adjacent bedroom where my parents slept. The typing sound carried easily, and meant that "Mommy" was nearby.
That happy memory served me well in later years, when I was a college student living in a large dormitory. Other students tended to complain about typing noises coming from nearby rooms. But for me, it was not a problem -- just a familiar lullaby to help me sleep.
