I can only write in the quiet, in stolen moments of peace from the often chaotic pace of my life.
My words come alive when I sip coffee in the quiet of a house granted when my husband is at work and my son goes to the few cherished hours of school he attends each week.
They dance onto the computer with a late night cup of tea to the symphony of snores that parade around the upstairs in the darkness of nightfall.
“Hey babe, I need you to look this over,” my husband asked/demanded in his stress of gathering materials to apply to a fellowship.
I sat down at the desk cluttered with test scores and resume drafts and felt overwhelmed.
“How do you turn this noise off? What window do you have open?” I asked in a flustered way.
“Hang on, I’ll fix it,” he said, reaching over to close the many tabs that helped him find his way around this project and the one that played music.
“I can’t write with noise,” I explained matter-of-factly and determinedly.
My husband’s face was incredulous. He is a lover of background noise; music on his phone or the computer, the TV always on when he’s home, a game on the x-box on just to be on. “I can’t do anything without noise,” he replied.
This, I know about him. I’ve learned it through years of living with him and his background noise. Add in a loud three year old and I feel constantly on the verge of over stimulation.
I am a lover of the silence. I find it peaceful and reflective; a chance to listen to the things in our minds we often shut out through out the business of the day.
I can only blog when I have the time to meditate in the silence of life, moments that are rare and treasured to me.
And so I write, think, and dream in stolen silent moments, welcoming my rare background noise of silence.