This old house is loud with creaks and groans, sort of like me as I age. I notice this most in the middle of the night. Despite the furnace tune-up and cleaning, noise announces the push of heat. And in the winter there is a need for lots of heat. Hot air clinks and clangs through the pipes. It often sounds like footsteps and movement through the house. I’m not nervous anymore. I just acknowledge being safe inside. But sometimes the noise becomes part of my dreams and I hear voices. Ghosts maybe, but friendly ones waking me. They are complaining about the cold wind beating against the siding and windows. Yet we are delighted when we hear the snow slipping off the metal roof. (Of course, I am the physical being who has to shovel it out of the plowed driveway!) Many of the original doors don’t close without scraping the wood floors. There are new window panes, and they still screech moving up and down. This old house is settling into its space, which is what I am doing also. And sound effects are part of the process.
terierrol 
This is beautiful ode to your old house and its voices (or noises). Living in an old house, I can certainly appreciate the sounds you describe as the heat and cold interact to challenge the old bones (wood).
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Love this sentence: This old house is settling into its space, which is what I am doing also.
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Love this line. This old house is settling into its space, which is what I am doing also. And sound effects are part of the process. Great close.
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