The house echoes with quiet. I don’t ever remember it being this still.
I’m tired so I decide to close my eyes (but just for a second ’cause I don’t want to miss a minute of this blissful moment of peace).
And then the world turns and flips and I wake up to the sounds of hunger or wettness or needing held or swaddling or pacing across the basement floor saying please be quiet and rest so I can rest … or who knows, I’m still figuring it out – I don’t know what that cry means yet; maybe the cry doesn’t either…
And that’s what I do. I feed, I change, I swaddle, I pace – I sleep (a little); so does the big black dog.
Sometimes, the nights go on for a year; tonight it has settled in deep. The room is lit by a three way on low who’s amber glow shares space with the rhythmic blinking of the neighbors Christmas lights meekly winking through the blinds. The furnace kicks in and there’s sounds of life. The illusion of peace in the absence of sound is broken.
I don’t close my eyes. My mind wanders. I wait for the furnace to hush and return quiet and when it does; I hold my breath and close my cradling arms to raise her towards my cheek and listen to her breathing, her cooing, her quiet. I exhale and breath deep her smell … perfect, innocent, new.
I do finally close my eyes shutting out everything but the sound of her breathing and her smell.
She’s a miracle, she’s my daughter, she’s my angel, she’s everything that makes me want to be a better person every single moment of every single day.
I lean back and close my eyes. I listen, I smell, I drift off to sleep; with love in my heart.
Quiet – Dave