I hear dinosaur roars, children's yells and laughter, and cars racing across hardwood floors.
I feel myself soaking it up, because, for the moment, it is the sound of joy.
It is another layer of emotion plastered onto the walls of this old house.
Normally my Sunday's involve a quick trip to the store, laundry for the week, stripping beds and making dinner.
Today I'm still tackling laundry, but I pushed the rest aside just to be.
Yesterday, it was over seventy degrees in Oklahoma at the end of January. It was a day of bliss in the midst of winter.
The Man took the children and ran them, played with them, and let them take the edge off their spring fever.
I had a day of unadulterated silence.
I got a pedicure--the first time since pre Punk.
I drank an iced coffee just because.
I finished a good book without interruption.
I putzed around our house and added a few new pictures to the walls.
When I was pregnant, it was called nesting. Now, its a form of meditation.
And with this kind, my back doesn't ache and my knees haven't locked up from sitting cross legged on the floor.
Although I love winter and the fresh coldness of it, yesterday was a gift, a chance to renew my soul, a chance to push open the windows and really breathe.
And, like a drowning woman, I did. Great gulping breaths that recharged my spirit and left me feeling sated and replete.
I now can hear my children without thinking how loud they are, how heavy their footfalls are as they pound across our floor. I can now hear the nuances of their childhood and understand that, in this moment, it is good.