I sit staring at the screen on my Mac determined to imprint little black symbols on a very white page. I suppose I should really be in bed trying to rid myself of a nasty cold that has taken hold. Instead, I crawled out of bed convincing myself that I will feel better if I make a “real” cup of coffee (with my French Press, not the Tassimo machine) and enjoy the silence in the house. Silence because I should be at work. C left for work an hour ago after dropping A off at the dayhome. The dog has had breakfast and has curled up for his morning nap. All I hear is the occasional car rolling down the street likely en route to a job somewhere in the city. The only other sound is the ticking of a clock my mother-in-law gave us from Austria that now hangs above the pantry door. I should be at work.
But I am not. I am home, enjoying the quiet. I am going to spend the day listening to me; listening to what I need to feel better and say “see ya later” to this cold. The work will still be as I left it on my desk. Maybe that’s all I need is a day to just feel the silence, the calm, the quiet. Perhaps a cold is my body’s way of saying, “just be for a day”. It is hard to know what that looks like when I don’t allow these silent days very often.
Perhaps I will spend my morning with a good book or catching up with Bones and Booth. I will enjoy the quiet and calm until 3:20 when A will be home from school and I return to being snack-maker, dance chauffeur, Mum and wife. Hopefully by then, my cold will have appreciated the silence and quietly slipped away.