Come to the Quiet

I don’t think I have ever said that this house is too quiet.

Quiet is the thing I like most about my kids being back to school. The only one making noise in the house is me (and the washing machine, which pretty much hums nonstop around here, but I barely notice that.)

Other than listening to The Catholics Next Door on satellite radio, I rarely have any radio, TV or music on during the school day when I’m not out running errands. It’s just me and my quiet. (I do talk to myself sometimes. It’s good that there’s no one else here to hear me and think I’m nuts.)

I really do need and appreciate that quiet. When the kids were younger, TheDad used to send me out of the house for some “bookstore time” so I could recharge my batteries a bit. That was always welcomed and wonderful, but the music in the store–someone else’s choice of music–just became another source of noise pollution in my world. I’d find myself hurrying out of there to get away from it.

It’s good–really good–to get away from all the noise that surrounds you everywhere. It’s good to be home, in the quiet, where nothing’s louder than the washing machine, the crickets and the sparrows.

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