The theme of the week is quiet. Or perhaps it’s calm. I miss my kids, but I’m keeping in touch through phone calls each night. Yesterday, apparently, they found pirate treasure on an island in Lake George. Last night they roasted hot dogs and marshmallows.
But here, it’s quiet. Quiet when I wake up. Quiet when I work. Quiet when I go to bed.
It was even quiet when I ran today. The land was still and empty.
Ok. There were a few cars on the bridge. But they were rather quiet.
It was quiet in the woods.
Quiet over the fields.
Quiet at the bed in the road.
Quiet as the sun burst through the leaves.
Quiet at the foot of High Street.
Quiet across the water.
Quiet as the light moves slowly across the ceiling of the studio.
And quiet here at the mothership, where I sit tapping quietly away. The windows are open for the first time in weeks, and the breeze is welcome.
The to-do list is long but so are the hours.
Back to it.
