Pieces of Quiet

The house is quiet; I'm thrilled that it's Sunday evening and everyone is asleep.  I have a lot of time in the day, when the girls are in school, when my husband is at work.  But those chunks of time get jammed and they never truly feel like they are my own.  Raised in Minnesota by Norwegians with overly strong work ethics and a deep desire to never rest, I have been brain washed into thinking that sitting on the couch in the middle of the day is a cardinal sin - heaven forbid reading a book for fun.  We must be productive.  My husband says we're human-BEings, not a human-DOings.  I think he just says that so he feels no guilt watching football with his eyes shut by the fire. 

So in effort to have a to-do list that's long, with plenty of check marks by the end of the day, I hit the gym, the same old YMCA I've been going to for about 9 years now.  I re-tile the bathroom shower because it looks so hideous from 12 years of our grime, never mind 18 years of previous owner's grim.  I wash the cars, I bake and cook, I volunteer, I go to church, I help at school, I work and I study, and I clean, oh how I clean.  But some days it all feels a little heavy and if my mind allowed me, I'd like to just curl up and take a nap or attempt to finish the monthly book club book.

All in all, I'm a fun gal but a gal in a rut.  Something about early fall, each year it sends me off to a contemplative place where everything feels a little heavier than I wish for it to feel.  Answering emails, returning calls, smiling.  All takes great effort.  Silly voices and laughter have all gone to school.  The  bus roars up without warning, kids climb on, doors snap shut, and like a rocket, it catapults them away.  Exhaust hits my face, I watch time fly by, foolishly waving.  There is still a pacifier in my underwear drawer.  The house is quiet then - but not in the good way like it is right now when my brood is all in the house, asleep, safe.  Don't tell anyone, but I think the part of these kids getting older that scares me the most is that they'll leave my house and then it will be just the two of us alone.  That is the real reason for the symbolic depression of the fall.