It's quiet in my house.
It was hot today, eighty-eight degrees, so the window is open. I can hear the sprinklers in the field behind our house, and the crack of the bats at the baseball field, and the whir of the fan overhead. I love quiet.
The dishwasher is humming contentedly, as it cleans our dishes for me. I'm grateful for that machine, as well as the washing machine and dryer, for just doing their job, day in and day out, no matter how much I ask of them. That doesn't happen much, does it? People just doing what you ask, no matter what it is, or what else you have asked of them. So, I'm grateful for whoever, or whatever, does that for me.
Soon it will be time for the ice cream truck to come around, and the band will be practicing for their parade marching. I love to hear those sounds, but I'm equally glad when they are gone, and our street is quiet again.
Sometimes, the neighbors will start up their truck, or their motorcycles, and it will cause a great disturbance in the quiet. It grates on me until they finally drive away and the solitude is restored.
One part of the quiet I like is when it is just dusk outside, and so not completely dark, but just dark enough to need a lamp on. I have a small reading lamp on my desk, and when I turn it on, and there is just a small circle of light to accompany my writing, it calms my soul, and I feel peace.
Peace is something that is hard to come by these days. So many contentious factors in the world! Politics, religion, societal values; they all cause my peace and calm to hide, and it takes me lots of time to coax them back out again.
And so I value these sort of nights, where the quiet reigns, and the peace envelopes me. I'll store this memory, so when I need a spot to hide from the cares of the world, I have a place to be.