It’s 8:30….

It’s 8:30 and the house is quiet.clock

All of the little people in my house are tucked in bed, asleep, or on their way.

There is mess all around me, the whirlwind that was the past three hours, but I don’t mind. I can clean it up leisurely, at my pace, in quiet.

Quiet.

This reminds me of days past, when I had children ages 5, 4, 4, 2… and a newborn. I would live for 8:30, surviving getting through 5 pm, knowing that if I just stayed patient, dealt with it all, that eventually 8:30 would come.

And it would be quiet.

It’s different now; this 8:30 is just the calm before the second storm. A high schooler at a late night school program. Three boys playing baseball hours away. They will all come home at 10:30 and want food, attention and love. Adrenaline making it impossible to shuffle them off to bed at a reasonable hour. They may just tuck me in.

I miss the quiet solitude of 8:30. Most nights it is a hive of noise and activity until I finally say “enough”. They still go to bed before me, but just by minutes.

I know that there will be a time in the not-so-distant future when 8:30 will be quiet again.

Quiet.

Quiet with no storm to follow….

But I know I won’t find it nearly as blissful as I do now.

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