Quietly

It's a typical summer morning. The temperature is mild, but rising. I've been up a couple of hours and have already made my way through a couple cups of coffee, a bit of morning news, the kitchen clean-up, the tennis match water and oranges prep, and a watering can or two on the tomatoes.

My boys sleep. They are still snoozing that childlike summertime way that seems to last for days.

And I'm torn. Torn between the reality that we have school work to accomplish and laundry to do and beds to make and bathrooms to clean and tennis matches to prepare for, and the luxury of letting my kids sleep in - not just for themselves...

...but for the quiet that envelops the house when they are asleep. I love that quiet, for a little while. If it goes on too long, it gets a little oppressive and I start longing for the sound of elephants running up and down my stairs and across the upper floor.

But for now, I think I'll savor it. Maybe I'll fix another cup of coffee and sit on the deck and breathe in the still of the morning and the aroma of growing tomatoes. Maybe I'll close my eyes and pretend I'm at the beach. Maybe I'll crawl back into the bed and take a 15 minute power nap.

Or maybe I'll just sit here.

Listening.