The song from bonkers Icelandic singer Bjork is going round in my head this morning as my house is soooooo quiet.
When you can hear a tick from the pendulum of a clock, the sound of your own steady breathing, every creak of the bed or seat you are sitting on you know you have found quietness.
I just love it.
I know if I go outside it will not be quite so quiet. There will be bird song and fluttering leaves as the squirrels go about their business in the woods besides us. There will be the sounds of people jetting off to foreign climbs. Children playing in gardens around us. Car doors opening and closing.
It is so tempting to stay curled up in my indoor cocoon. The sounds in the outdoors I know will make me want to do something. Especially when the sun has finally come out after so many months of rain. Yesterday they talked me into a little gardening, a little pegging of washing on the line. Today my body is telling me too much.
Will I ever learn to go be amidst the sounds of life and not be tempted to try and join them?
I remarked to my husband this morning as he took the children off to a church service where they will be playing their instruments, that soon he might start getting the sympathetic looks and offerings of casseroles as people think he is bringing up the children alone.
One thing I can do in this quiet however is go through my daughters final year of primary school life. Over this week the coffee table has become more and more laden with books, folders, pictures and projects. I will look at every single one. I will recall the stories she has told me of things that she did on a particular school day and enjoy seeing what she was describing.
I'm sad that I couldn't make it to her leavers assembly where each child gets presented with a bible. I'm sad that even if she had wanted me to I couldn't have walked to fetch her on her final day at the school she has been at for the last seven years. The school that first drew us to come and look at houses in this area. The school that we noticed was right next to a church, I still remember the day that we pulled up into the school/church car park one Sunday morning. We heard a trombone playing and there and then felt God calling us to a new home.
But dwelling on that makes me melancholy - too many sad things have happened in these last seven years.
For now I shall go and make myself a cup of tea (at least I can move around reasonably pain free at the moment) and settle down with the books and folders, pictures and projects.