I really didn't think there was a lot of quiet in my life, but it turns out that there's more quiet than I ever realized.
Although my mixer isn't exactly quiet, last Friday, Shane was using it to mix cheesecake. He was making chocolate covered cheesecake squares-- Beth's favorite. Since it was for her surprise shower, I couldn't email her that he was making it or twitpic that he was making it. I had to be quiet, when really, I wanted nothing more than to tell her what Shane was making.
Every night we have the same routine with Luke. We get him warm milk, brush his teeth, and read three stories. We kiss and say our I love yous , then Shane and I go downstairs. About five minutes later, Luke comes down for a second cup of milk. He cuddles on the couch while we get his milk, then we go back upstairs, read one more story and that's the last we see of him until the sun comes up. Sometimes I find myself wanting to rush this time because I need to shower and clean and get ready for the next busy day, but mostly, I love these quiet moments.
The best kind of quiet came last night. The weather has been beautiful this week, finally bringing a glimmer of hope for warmer weather. I found a quiet longing in my soul for beautiful weather, for nests and baby birds, for first swing rides, for the quiet joy that shows up in the eyes of a three year old who has been waiting for so long to stretch his legs into the air and fly.