It is so still in my house, I can actually hear the whirring of the refrigerator and a crow cawing from one of the trees in our back yard. Every so often my ears perk up a little more actively when passing cars drive down our street.
I know that at some point soon, one of those cars will actually pull into our driveway and stop.
From its doors will spring a passel of loud, possibly whiny little people that I love with my entire heart and without question the first thing my younger son will do is race to either the front or back door of our small house, pounding on it with his three-year-old fist and screaming "Mommy!!! Mommy!!! Are you there? I NEED YOU."
Of course I'm here, and so I will answer his call as I always do - with hugs and kisses and love. At the moment that I actually see their cherubic little faces, I will fall in love with my chaotic family once again as I always do ~ and it won't matter so much that the peaceful spell of morning has been broken.
Yet...
For now, at this exact moment, I am luxuriating in an envelope of silence. It is so quiet in my house, I can almost hear the spiders crawling. My mind feels so still. It's just plain beautiful.
Parenthood is such a gift; even on the lousy days. It shakes you up and forces you not only to reassess your priorities but also to get to know yourself in a way that you might not have needed to when you were a single girl or guy out having drinks at sunset with your friends.
One thing is for sure, parents stop taking things for granted pretty fast - like silence. Using the bathroom by yourself. Taking a nap. Going anywhere spontaneously. Staying long hours at the office because you can and you feel like it. Sleeping for an entire night with no interruptions. Keeping a tidy house. Having a romantic evening at home. HA!
I cherish my Sundays so much because by and large they represent the only times when I have enough undisturbed time to reconnect with the person I used to be until the age of 29.
Writing those words, I have to ask myself - Am I still that same woman? Underneath all of the trappings of the past six years, is that gal still in here somewhere? Is she locked like a secret in my heart, waiting to bust out of her hiding place when the time is right?
Maybe so... but I wouldn't bet on it.
I may like a lot of the same things that I did 6 years ago ~ like reading, hiking, listening to music, cooking, teaching, traveling, spending time with my husband. All of that still sounds very appealing.
There is a whole WORLD of difference though in the way I've come to appreciate the myriad small things that I took for granted for those first 29 years of my life. Whomever I have become now, she's someone that notices small details and gives infinite thanks for them.
Listening to the dull roar of surf from my bedroom window, for example. It's such a gift! I don't think I'd noticed its soothing presence for years until the time came when I could literally no longer hear any gentle sounds due to the constant (shrill) giggling, cackling, crying or chatter of my darling kids. Nowadays when I have even ten minutes alone in our house and I can hear the surf, I count my blessings and really soak in the moment.
Some day when my children are old enough to understand the power of small miracles, I will hold a conch or wavy turban shell up to their ears as my father once did for me... and encourage them to be quiet long enough to hear the sounds of the ocean coming from its depths.
I will teach my children about what is beautiful in silence.
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