I think a lot about quiet in the early mornings. These days I’m getting up well before the sun so that I can dedicate a couple of hours to these projects of mine. It’s guilt-free, distraction-free working. I don’t have to worry that I should be spending time with my family instead of typing away at this computer because they’re all sound asleep, and I don’t have to worry that I really should be washing dishes or folding laundry because it’d be too loud and wake everyone up. No, this is my time to focus, and the only thing I have to worry about is losing sleep, but I can catch up on that in Heaven, right? Or on Sunday afternoons.
Yes, the quiet is nice, when I feel like I have a jump start on the day and I can process my thoughts without dogs barking or getting pulled into another Kardashians rerun (it’s like a train wreck, people. You can’t NOT watch it!).
But last night was better. I sat on the living room floor and just listened as my husband and his sisters laughed about anything and everything…and nothing at all. It’s rare these days that all three of them are together, so those are moments that we cherish. It doesn’t matter what they’re doing, it’s always the same. One is picking on another. The other jumps in and now two are picking on one. Then the tables always turn; no one is safe. Not even me.
It’s one of those moments when you just want to freeze time; when you remember what life really is all about. When you think to yourself, “I am so lucky to be alive,” because life is experiencing simple little memories like this. I love the quiet times, but I’d trade them for days like this anytime.