The Promise of a Little Bit of Quiet

So lately, this brick-faced house that stands on the wide open, snow-dusted piece of ground that we call home, is full.

Full of little boys and a medium sized boy and a big boy and us two girls. So there is lots of play and chatter and up and down the stairs and in and out the door and clothes on and clothes off and snacks and sippy cups and books and plastic swords and toy cars and we are almost double at the table and all the beds are slept in and the dog is never in short supply for crumbs that fall. It's loud. And that's okay with me.

But sometimes, a little piece of quiet can be really okay too.



So tonight, I'll drive to a not-so-distant town to meet up with the Hubby. We'll eat good Mexican food, take in a movie, and I'll help him set up for the class he'll be teaching tomorrow. And instead of him in a hotel room and me upstairs at home for the night, we'll be together. And it will be quiet. A little piece of quiet.

Then, in the early morning, I will drive back those miles to that brick-faced house that stands in the wide open. Back to a day of  the little boys and the medium sized boy and to us two girls. There will be the toys and the books. There will be snacks and sippy cups. There will be clothes on and off again.  And it will surely be loud. But after a bit of quiet, that's okay with me.