I decided to post today just because I haven't written anything in a long time.
For me, that's unusual. I like to talk, sometimes I talk too much. It's not that I dearly love the sound of my voice ~ on the contrary, I really don't. But when you have a husband who is full of conversation, and you live in a house with seven (eight) children and six singing, chatty finches, you get used to the noise...whether or not it's your noise or someone else's. I would mention here that we also share our space with Andrea's rabbit, L'il Pazaz, but she never utters a peep, so I don't think she should count as far as any noise goes...
It's been like this for nearly 30 years now, and I expect it will go on for quite some time to come.
The other night, seven of them went bowling together ~ unfortunately Julia had to work so she had to skip it ~ and I can just imagine the fun they must have had at the bowling alley...where six of them met, and Paul & Kristy came later...I wish I could have been there to see the fun!
But the point I'm trying to make here is that the house went deathly quiet after they left. Mike was on his laptop in another room, I sat in the bedroom @ my drawing table, on my own laptop...there was not a sound between us.
It was a peaceful sound of silence, but silent it was, to the extreme.
And silence is a funny thing.
When your children are small, you will do anything for some peace and quiet. As they grow up, you find yourself absorbing their noise, their voices, their presence like so much life vibration ~ it fills your space and you become accustomed to it.
After a few of them begin to branch out on their own, you find yourself wondering, 'What sounds are they making at this very moment? Who is there to hear them? Can they hear me?'
You still have a couple of children left at home so you begin to focus on their noise, their voices, their presence. But the sounds of the ones who are gone never leave you.
I expect to find myself alone some day, with Mike...just the two of us. We will wait for the sound of our children opening the front door. Perhaps they will be coming in with husbands or wives, several grandchildren...maybe more than one will show up at the same time?
And we will once again find ourselves making the noises of family ~ voices and mutual presence for one another to absorb.
We will watch them leave, taking their life's vibrations with them...and we will once again feel the sound of silence in our home here, a home that for so many years has been full of life, love and laughter.
That is the way of our lives; it goes on, generation after generation...and there is not a single thing I can do about that. But I can do something for my own self where that is concerned ~ I can savor every moment, building up the memories to cherish when there is no sound to absorb anymore.
And that is exactly what I intend to do.