A Moment

It's a weekend alone for me. Well, as alone as one can be with three dogs and a cat.

There are things my spirit craves and quiet is one of them. I relish the times when the television is off, the computer screen is black, the radio is unplugged and the only sounds I hear are my own breaths and the snores of the mutts next to me.

Last night I lit a candle and just sat.

I banished the creeping feelings of guilt about all the things that needed to be accomplished, taken care of or cleaned up. I just sat.

I ignored the questions rattling around in my head about what Delilah might be up to and tried not to worry that she might be upstairs squatting on something. (She knows enough about potty training now to be cognizant of the fact that if she's going to pee on something she should go upstairs to do it – you know, where no one can see her.)

I let my body rest and I let my brain think. And I just sat.

Eventually I indulged myself with a book. The only sounds in the house were the pages turning and me, occasionally laughing out loud. And after a while, I put the book down and sat there, in the quiet, for the longest time, thinking. Feeling almost as if I’d forgotten how. I did not have a revelation or an epiphany or even a slightly brilliant thought.

I just sat there, breathing in the quiet.

Life is made up of a million regular, boring, routine, forgettable moments. It's magic when you notice just one.