It is a rare night when our house is silent. The constant activity and daily noise of family life tends to echo in every corner or our little home. I usually don’t hear all of the noise as it has become the soundtrack of our lives: ongoing chatter between mamas and Shortstack (or some combo thereof), dishes clinking and pots being dropped (I’m notorious for being unreasonably noisy in the kitchen), music playing, traffic outside, neighbors coming and going, Shortstack shooting up the bad guys (he could lay down a movie soundtrack for lego battle scenes given the chance), TV on after Shortstack’s in bed.
I was exhausted and drained last night. Very little sleep in the past week and busyness stress was bringing me to my knees. Figuratively, of course – but also literally. After getting Shortstack into bed (his mamas’ bed, mind you, because he doesn’t think that I should sleep alone), I pulled out my dusty yoga mat and curled into child’s pose. I breathed in and out and just kept my eyes closed. I pushed aside my gotta-do list running through my mind and took a moment to just stop. And sit in silence. When I didn’t feel like my head would burst and my chest started to release, I started to move. Throughout the night, I kept my movements quiet. The house remained soundless. No TV. No music. No chatter. Dishes, lunch prep for the next day, reading, bubble bath,tea drinking and, then, just sitting and watching a candle flicker. We live on a busy-ish street. Cars, buses, trucks and motorcycles tend to zoom loudly by. Our neighbors (not all of them, but enough) tend to be loud. But for a night, the neighborhood was quiet. And so was the house.
Oh, blessed silence.
For a night, I sat with myself, in our home and reveled in the stillness. When I curled into bed next to our little boy (after pushing him over so that I could get a few inches in our bed as well) and closed my eyes, I thanked my angels for the blessing of a healing and silent night.