There are different kinds of quiet. At this moment, I am enjoying the most delicate and beautiful form of quietude. I am in a sleeping house. I woke to help Paul get off to his motorcycle class(a source for a different kind of post). After he left, I was fully awake. The A/C is running. The house is probably too chilly. And, my sons are asleep in their beds. I curled up on the sofa and read my book for a bit. Gumbo curled up on my feet. I can hear the fish tank gurgling in the other room. The grandfather clock makes each quarter hour. It is as if my home is breathing, snuggled in the folds of some divine bed. This is the place I want to be. The sun is still deep asleep, not even a single glimmer of light. The yard outside the windows is in deep shadow. And my babies are asleep, floating in their dreams, all toasty and soft. Evan still has that faint sense of baby. His little face still has that softness and cherubic curves he once had as a toddler. I can still catch that image of him when he is sleeping. Cameron is all lanky and limbs, he has the suggestion of growing up and being more masculine. He is still so thin and lean, but I see his growth and I realize, so soon he will be all muscles and body hair and boy funk. People sometimes ask me if I want more children. I emphatically say no……I just want MY boys all over again. I want more time with them at 2 and 3 and 4. When they were little and I could hold them in my lap. My house is so quiet.

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