There are time when my mind is so full it feels empty, as though it is a bottomless cavern that can hold no more. No more thought, no more knowledge, no more emotion.
On those days, I want to retreat into myself and find that small, still, silent place within.
It reminds me of the Neverending Story and the quest to stop the Nothing from devouring the world.
I yearn for that nothing.
But, as the mother of three small children who have no idea how glorious silence can be, my moment of peace is normally gone in the blink of an eye.
I love my heathens, but I crave quiet like an alcoholic craves his next drink.
My husband is a good man, but he likes to talk, and I just want to retreat into the confines of my mind to just . . . be.
My life is full and boisterous and noisy and alive.
And I treasure that.
But occassionally, a mama just needs to breathe, to stop, to listen to the echoing sounds of nothing in her mind.
Without the pounding of little feet, the cries of indiginant outrage, the needs of four other people pressing down into my silence, making it heavy and loud and full.
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