It's a quiet Easter morning. Apart from the dog, I'm the only one in the house who has made it out of bed. It's quiet outside, too - there is virtually no wind, and no one else was out in the streets when I took the dog for a walk just awhile ago.
As much as I resent waking up early even on a weekend morning, there is something wonderful about the quiet and the chance to sit quietly by myself. I'm waiting for the warmer weather to arrive so I can take my coffee outside and enjoy the warmth and quiet noises of nature. I am lucky enough that, when the air is just right, I can't hear the noise from the not-so-far-off highway that bisects the city where I live. When it's just right, it's like I live in the country. I can close my eyes and hear the squirrels chatter to each other; I can listen to the sounds of the birds singing whatever song it is they sing, and I can pretend I'm not surrounded by highways and often-busy streets.
That's when it's warm and lovely, of course. Today is overcast and cool and just a little drizzly. It's still, though, and I enjoyed one of those quiet walks.
Does everyone who lives in a city - no matter how large or small - dream about the quiet that lies just beyond the boundaries of their everyday lives? I do. I'm not sure where the yearning for quiet comes from - I don't live in a noisy household and the noise that surrounds me is often the noise of my choice - music, for the most part. I don't live a busy life, either. Gone are the days when I was ferrying my son here and there for lessons or practices, and trying to fit it other things around his schedule. I am very much a homebody, and enjoy puttering around the house. I am not pulled in all directions and am pretty much free to spend my time as I choose. My life is not noisy. So why the desire for the stillness and quiet?
I don't have an answer, at least not for myself. I would understand it more it I had a house full of kids, or lived in the middle of a busy neighbourhood, or found myself running from my full-time job to a part-time job to help make ends meet. None of those apply to me. I have one of the quietest lives of anyone I know, and yet I long for more quiet. Perhaps I've idealized something about the stillness and silence that can be, or that I think can be. Maybe it doesn't really exist - maybe the brief moments that I savour on a quiet weekend morning are as good as it gets. And, truthfully, maybe that's really all I need.
I hear movement upstairs, and my quiet time is coming to an end. My husband will come down the stairs and we'll chat for awhile, and enjoy a different kind of quiet time together. And that's just fine, too.
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