Friday night has come once again, (it always does every week). The need for my space and their space, my time and their time once again collide and wrestle in my brain. How will it go down? What will be the ending hour of our juggling act? Will I be able to hold on to my ‘calm voice’? Will they push to test the limits of my reserve? A strategic trip to the library starts off our weekend with whispers and reading.
This week the bitter cold bites as we come home from our afternoon trip. Although it is still early and not even dark yet, I trudge to the coop to put the chickens to bed. This week I will succeed in my early, (weeknight regular) bed time for the girls. This week I will have some quiet time before I, also, collapse into bed exhausted from the busy week.
A rooster crows, a few hens peck at the snow, but most are already in the coop roosting for the night. My big girls also have started to wind down, reading their new library books, already in pajamas and snuggled on the couch.
I pause. The pink horizon and the almost round moon catch my eye. Life has been too busy his week, too hectic, too stressed, too much.
Tonight is a winter’s rest night. Tonight we all get the quiet, the calm, the reflective quality of this time of year. It is not the darkest time, as the sun is actually setting later every night. But it is the time I often reflect, rethink, ponder and acknowledge the quiet season.
Even the moon seems to pause and ponder in the trees slightly above the horizon. On another night it might appear to have been caught, or snagged on the branches. But tonight I see it is resting, reflectiving peace.
Right now I see bird and mouse footprints crisscrossing the snow, frozen flower stems around the sleeping garden, and the empty trees outlined against the pink sky. The sledding run from last week interrupts the track of my daily path to feed the chickens. It reminds me that it will all be gone soon, the snow, the emptiness, the quiet anticipation.
I must remember to breath, to see, to be gentle, with not only the three little lives snuggled on the couch with their new books, but also with myself. I must give myself a break everyonce in a while.
We have hotdogs with sauerkraut and potato chips for dinner. Followed by a family movie night and snuggles. The children are all tucked in bed by 9, leaving time for my own reading and snuggling and peaceful quiet.
A small peace is growing for me. Thank you for hearing, being, listening, and reading.