There’s a quietness in my home these days. Welcoming the return of a travelling daddy on a week that was met with the unexpected takedown of a stomach virus, we are gradually sinking in to familiar routines around here all the while a little more aware of our surroundings, each other and the quietness that exists in that space.
The late night tummy woes I would have gladly tossed back to the universe on any given notice but the opportunity for individual moments within the world of each of my children that resulted from the illness has in many ways, felt like a gift.
The light of a welcoming spring shone softly this week.
It hasn’t been loud, we didn’t feel completely dreadful, there was warmth in the moments between.
It seems that collectively, we utilized the quiet peacefulness to fill in the gaps where key people and good healthy energy were missing.
There’s a hymn I grew up listening to as a child blended together from scriptures found in Song of Solomons and Psalms. It is a song that seems to find its way into my head at random times. It is beautiful and I love the imagery of love the words weave together… “Set me as a seal on your heart, as a seal on your soul.” I think of it as a love that is with you all the time, even when you physically can’t see it and don’t even know you need to. It is loving someone with a soft, quiet presence.
Outside today, we were all in a collective space but each doing our own thing. Gabriel was chalking the sidewalk, Lucy was driving cars and Molly was reading on the blanket. At some point, Gabriel had finished writing on the sidewalk and returned to cars, Lucy had moved to playing with stuffed animals and Molly was writing in her journal. Continuous individualized play with seamless, quiet transitions. But as I looked to the sidewalk I had seen that at some point, Gabriel had written “I love you Molly” to which in some passing transition of time, she without any outward vocalization had read it, internalized it and responded on the driveway art with “I love you too.”