The first night that I slept in my new hometown, in my borrowed bed, I kept hearing a noise. It was not a frightening noise but it was a noise that I could not readily identify. It was sort of a murmur, a sighing, a whisper.
I lay awake for quite a while, thoughts tumbling about in my head and, in the background, the noise, which was coming from outside.
I finally identified it!
It was the evening breeze rustling the leaves on a full-grown, very tall,very robust cottonwood tree in the neighbor's yard. The wind would come in waves and the leaves would rustle in waves and I was soon awash in waves of memory - of childhood trees and soft breezes.
I slept well that night.