Wednesday, July 09, 2014


I sit here tonight (this morning) and think about the various silences I've experienced through the years. The early morning when the world seems to still be sleeping and the birds are just beginning to sing their melodies. The late night when everyone has already gone to bed and you are locking up the house at the end of a long day. The forest in the middle of winter. The stillness between each breath of the baby laying beside you. The gut-wrenching moment when you realize the car really hit you and you can't hear your toddler from the back seat. That emptiness of the soul when you believe you are alone in the world. The held breath before you blow out the candles with your wish clearly blazing in your mind. All of these and so many more.

But tonight... I think about a silence that I've never experienced before. That of an empty house. I don't mean when the kids are both at their friend's house for the weekend (although there was a whole summer that I experienced that one), I mean the stillness of a house where you are the only one living there. Where you know that every day you will walk through the door and you'll be the only human who actually resides there. I am looking forward to this new bit of my journey, and dreading it all the while.

I don't know what will happen when Brianna has taken flight and moved on with her adult life. I don't know if I will cry or mope about or what. I do know that I hope I see it all as a wonder-filled opportunity to learn even more about my Self.

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