The quiet is glorious.
I'm sitting at the table with my coffee, listening to the wind howl and watching snowflakes blow past.
It's not a pretty day. There's not enough snow to cover the ground. The sky is the type of gray that makes you cold just to look at it.
But I am thankful.
Thankful for the silence. Thankful for the deep comfort I take in silence.
I didn't grow up in a loud family. My family was quiet. There were only four of us. And we were readers. Studious types. Not given to yelling or loud bursts of joy. Our house was steady and quiet.
The exact opposite of my house now.
And while I absolutely LOVE my wild, loud children, sometimes I miss the silence. So I'm embracing the few hours of quiet that I have now.
I have coffee and good book (Summer of the Dead by Julia Keller--she's a fantastic author whose novels are set in West Virginia). I'll start the day reading and then I'll sit down at the computer and write. The words come much easier when I'm in a quiet place.
In a few hours the kids will come home and my house will return to its normal state--loud and crazy. I love that too.
But right now, this quiet is delicious.