…and unfortunately not the good kind of quiet. not the quiet of days full of creative work in other places. not the quiet of cups running over. what’s changed?
not much of anything really; that’s what gets me. we have to move out of our little house with the wood stove and garden, the place where our boy was born. the place where both the girl and the boy took their first steps. but we aren’t in the crush of moving. we’re in the waiting, looking for what’s next, holding our breath, hopeful but worried nonetheless place. and it wears me out. it takes my attention from my real work.
so, today as an antidote to worry, i will do my work. i’ll wash the clothes overflowing their basket. i’ll put the soup on. i’ll pray. i will bring peace to our house.