It's Friday night. It's been a week of running...continuously, and, once again, have nothing tangible to show for my efforts. I make dinner. Well, make might be an overstatement, really. I heat up leftovers for dinner (which my family is actually quite excited about because it was so good the first time!), and while we eat, I sit. Quietly. Listening to the conversation going on around me. Time, ticking... Moments that I know one day I will yearn for, but on this day, I am just. So. Tired.
My wonderfully gracious husband sees my need, and tells me to go upstairs. Have some "alone time". And so, I leave him and The Girls to escape to my bed. To read a book. To sit like a zombie. To do nothing. To just be. Alone. In my dark room. By myself. At 7 o'clock on a Friday night. And it is heaven.
The Girls come in quietly, as if entering a hallowed space, to say goodnight. For one last kiss. And hug. And back scratch. And they leave, closing the door quietly and gently, as if they know the fragility of my sanity in this moment. As If they sense my need for quiet. For peace. And I am, once again, thankful for their mercy. For their ability to respect my desire for some sanctuary.
It's now Friday night, at 11 o'clock. And my eyes are blurry, yet I don't want to sleep yet, for I am enjoying this short respite of life, taken in my bed. Because I know that when I wake up in the morning, it'll be loud and busy and wonderful, and my quiet will be gone. And I'll be thankful that it happened, and thankful that it's over.
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