Quiet Time

Monday morning, 6:29 AM... all is quiet on my southern front.

The weekend was busier than normal. Friends in crisis, "discussions" with the husband, cleaning, laundry, painting... I need a work-week to rest up from my weekend. Seriously.

Quiet is nice, but sometimes it makes me nervous. Growing up in a house full of people, it was never quiet. There were always people yelling, dogs barking, cows mooing, something blasting away on the television or country music on the radio. Quiet was something I craved. It was SO hard to think when I was growing up. So if the day was nice, I would walk to the First Street Beach. There was a lovely, looooong pier there with a lighthouse at the end of it. I could sit there for hours - just me, the boulders, the seagulls and the crashing waves. God, it was so wonderful there. I miss that so dearly.

When I took Carl home to meet my family, I took him out the the pier and lighthouse. Like me, Carl is a water sign. We spent about an hour out there - NOT TALKING. I've got to tell you, it was the best communication time ever.

Anyway, back to the quiet. Even now, I just can't rest when it is TOO quiet. I have to have some noise. In my bedroom, I have a little air conditioner AND a box fan AND a ceiling fan. Both the noise and the cold make me sleep better. There is something to soothing to me about the hum of a box fan or the whirr of the air conditioner that sort of induces sleep - better than a pill or a bath or aromatherapy.

In just a couple of hours, the phone will start ringing, the doorbell will buzz, kids will get outside and start playing (meaning the dogs will be barking up a storm), and all my "quiet" will be gone for another day. So I will relish this semi-silent time, thank God for His blessings in my life, and Boy Scout Motto myself up for another day.

Rawk on!