After my parents divorced, I would arrive home to an empty house. Just me and Meander. She'd go to one room to do her homework or whatever, and I'd go to another. Sometimes the quiet would overwhelm me, and probably Meander too because we would always have the TV or the radio on. Then Meander went to high school and it was just me, and the silence would really overwhelm me. So I'd have something on even if I wasn't listening to it.
(A lot of times I would try on really outlandish make-up by the way. Not like normal make-up, but flaming red lipstick, or theater make-up, you know fake bruises or scars. We had theater make-up in our house. Sometimes I'd even go into the attic and put on costumes. Hey, it passed the time.)
The point is, it was quiet, and I hated it. Now I crave it. Back then even with whatever means I employed the quiet was still there and I had my thoughts. But Mr. Hobbitfeet and the kids are loud. There is never a time when all three of them are home and there is silence. Even while sleeping my children shout and cry or ramble (Mr. H. always reminds me that it is an inherited trait, but then I seem to have it under control right now).
Except right now. Right this minute Girl is asleep and all I can hear is the furnace and the clacking of keys as I type. It is in these seconds, that I don't feel like Boy and Girl's mom, or Mr. H.'s wife, but just Woodlandmama.
It's really nice.
I know that there will come a time when my kids will grow up and the silence will overwhelm me again. But until that time, I'll just bask.
4 hours ago