If you’ve followed my recent posts you know there was much excited anticipation about Easter, followed by a disaster…food poisoning from a meal the night before on the actual day. We muddled through, and now we are back to our familiar routines…almost.
It’s so quiet in the house. My daughter is at work. My husband is quietly reading the newspaper somewhere. My son, who has recovered from his food poisoning, is also tucked away, probably in his room on his iphone. I am alone at the kitchen table with the marzipan lamb that no one wants to eat, including me.
I savor the quiet as much as the excitement. The kitchen clock is ticking; the bluejays are squawking outside as they usually do. I have the space at the kitchen table and the quiet time I need to write my slice which will not be very elaborate today.
Today is a day for regrouping and moving on. Another holiday has passed. Time to pick up the reins and get back in the saddle. Just a few days left before the poetry workshop I am presenting on Saturday. There’s still lots to do. Quiet is important. It restores balance and makes space for whatever comes next. I am as grateful now for the quiet times as I am for the anticipation of events. Must be a sign of age.