I really enjoy the quiet. The goldfinch pair
nesting in the tree in the backyard. Their babies
crying for food.
The day the fledglings took flight. Reminding me of my kids
when we take a trip anywhere. Constantly
chattering and chirping about anything. With a million ‘Mom look at this’ thrown in.
My brain scatters in a million directions as I remember to breath. Which sounds odd,
but I have this awful habit of breathing shallow, which is like not breathing at all.
In overwhelming situations I need to remember to breathe. Just breathe.
My mind singing, Just Breathe, as I remind myself. Which causes a whole meandering
of other songs as I try not to get stuck on that one. The one that always gets stuck.
The one I cannot remember anything, but a few words. I even think the tone
is wrong as I quietly sing it to myself.
Looking for comfort in a day that felt all uncomfortable. Like clothes that get wet in the rain.
Drying to a stiff, chaffing fabric. Making it important to remember to breathe.
I really have grown fond of the quiet. The one that sat between those thoughts.
While I watched the goldfinch family teach the young to fly. The fledglings chirping
excitedly as they swooped down to greet a chicken. Who looked slightly amused or confused.
I laughed out loud. Enjoying the quiet between thoughts. Between words. Between ‘Mom!’ Demands.
I really enjoy the quiet.
