My hands wrap around my favorite mug as i slowly sip in the morning. i breathe. i pause and look into the fire dancing near my toes. the house has quieted. the children tucked into school after a raucous, lively weekend home. the littlest playing nearby. happy with a pile of books. or a doll. or a fur laid on the floor. rolling on and off. on and off. i find solace in the quiet. the time when even my own thoughts slow. these times don't present often when in a house of six. instead there are levels of quiet. the quiet where everyone plays something, happy, getting along. the quiet of a beach walk. the waves crashing and retreating. the quiet of a late night swim with the family. the quiet of an inspiring conversation with a friend. the quiet once the children are in bed and just the dishwasher hums. the quiet as my guy reads nearby. each of us flipping pages. the quiet that happens, occasionally, in the morning. it's hard to say which is my favorite. more and more i seek solace in these times.
i breathe. i notice. i find the grateful that weaves through the day. i start again.
*linking up with Amanda here.