Tranquillité

The teapot is heating and plane is flying over my house. My chair squeaks as I adjust myself at the keyboard as it clicks with my typing. But what I really hear is my favorite thing about morning. Silence. Tranquillité. It's like the quiet before the storm.

I am the only one up and about. The dogs are still quiet and sleeping, and I have time to let my mind wander and ruminate. It's not time yet to plan the day. Instead it's that brief period of time where there are no real demands. Where my mind can flit to and fro on things from my dreams last night to conversations recently had to thoughts not fully formed because of interruptions. Now is my me time.

A dog barking outside makes me look up to see my pregnant neighbor walking her poodle. I don't know her name or where she lives, but I'm watching her pregnancy progress as she walks by my window each morning while I'm typing away at my computer. I know her, and yet I don't.

A car drives down my quiet street. Very few cars do that, but I recognize one or two as regular workers setting out for their day. My neighbor who rides a motorcycle will leave later after walking his dog, Chloe. 

I hear the hum of the refrigerator and it reminds me to be grateful for all that I have. All that I take for granted. The clock ticks minutes off of my day and my life reminding me to be mindful of how I use these minutes and hours and days.

Soon the silence will be broken, and the day's activities will begin in earnest. But this time -- these brief minutes -- are mine, and I cherish them.

linking up with Writer's Workshop