Last week, I spent some time alone in the house, and it was eerily quiet. This week, we are all home...and it is unusually quiet--but not eery. After a trip to the library, we are all reading. Three of us tucked into soft corners of the living room, pages turning. The cat is on a radiator nearby. My girl is upstairs in her room. The air is filled with imagination and breath and comfort.
It is unusual for us to be together and so quiet, and as I leave my warm spot on the couch to go cook dinner, I find myself unwilling to put on the radio as I normally do in the kitchen. I don't want to break the spell. Tomorrow will be busy and noisy. I want to soak in stillness just a little bit longer today.