I live for early morning quiet.
Yeah, I’m one of those. If I’ve gotten some time to sleep well, and get up in the morning while it’s still dark, and it’s just me and the new day, it’s a good day.
There’s just something about the softness of silence that wraps around everything like a familiar blanket. It’s warm and comforting. It inspires me to take gentle steps, to move more deliberately, to be nicer and more at peace with everyone, including myself. A great day is when the calm of the morning influences the entire day.
Everyone still sleeps in the house when I get up. I love the idea of peaceful snoozers just a floor above. I love that we are all together here in the silence. My coffee mug and I keep watch while they snore.
The occasional car on the highway – dark-early commuters getting a head start on the traffic – interrupts the hum of my computer, the brewing of the coffee, the fan of the heater blowing on chilly mornings like today. My husband, an early commuter like the few on the road outside, wakes and leaves so quickly that his noises are soon forgotten, absorbed into the quiet.
It only lasts a short time.
The sun lightens the sky as the noises outside get louder, more frequent. The noises inside do, too. I hear the bathroom door close, the water of the shower. Soon there will be footsteps, then voices. The buzz of the refrigerator will again be background noise instead of the featured solo.
Voices talking to me. Voices vying for my attention, rising up against each other. My voice will join theirs.
The morning quiet is replaced by chatter about schedules, the rustle of breakfast, the preparing of book bags and lunchboxes.
The day is here.
This post inspired by:
Prompt #5: Listen. Write about what you hear, right now.