years ago, in a movie I watched, there was a reference to one character entering into their “quiet chapter of their lives” and that description always stuck with me. it stuck, likely because as a person who’s continually physically and mentally ‘on the go’, I’ve kind of longed for that chapter to come. and not just quiet in proximity but internally as well. as a girl living in large cities for so long, I viewed them as separate from each other — like you could have one without the other magically.
what I’ve found since our trek north began is that they are so intrinsically intertwined for me. quiet in my surroundings has equaled quiet in my being. my soul has quieted since we’ve moved out of the city and it’s not just been me — the little one also is less jumpy, less seeking for that long sought after ‘thing’, more in tune with the quiet that physically surrounds and embraces us.
every weekday morning I stand at the bus stop and see the little one off with her friend. every weekday morning I get in my car for the half-hour drive to the little seacoast city that I work in. the first week of this I was desperate for something to entertain me, for noise to fill that space it always filled in car rides — I searched and searched (and seriously searched!) for a radio station I could listen to as to fill the void around me. but my car has decided it will only get in two stations, both filled with talking and talking and what they talked about I didn’t care to listen to. then I decided to stream public radio from our old city on my phone and after a couple of trips of listening to folks lament over the current state of whatever we’re lamenting was enough to create more anxiety than I needed. so I turned the external noises off and went with silence.
the first morning, watching the sun come up as I traveled east through farm land and over bridges that span two bays (one little and one great, as their names tell me) I started to slow enough to really enjoy the silence. the ease of it all while I traveled beside fields covered in early morning dew with horses or cows munching away renewed my sense of connection to our new home. the morning the wild turkey’s stopped me in their parade across the road was laughable and wonderful as they gobbled their way along. but I was still itchy in my own skin with this silence … so one morning I made a game of counting and categorizing road kill along my drive.
that was clearly not my most shining moment …
but time has passed since the newness of it all, the leaves are changing colors telling me that they too are slowing down and the drive has become somewhat rote and comfortable. now I long for the drive in silence to let go of my work-day in the seacoast town as I shift to being ‘just momma’ to the little one. in the mornings I cherish the time to myself to let thoughts wander, allowing minds time to relax and clear, to know that part of being able to enter into the quiet chapter of your life begins slowly, deliberately.
being the rebel I am I still do drive with an open mug of coffee on my way to the office … but when the mug also reminds me of something bigger than me in one simple word, I’m fine with my rebel-like streak.
I’m not sure when I’ll be convinced I’m fully in the quiet chapter of my life but I’m enjoying exploring it and learning to embrace the silence and the peace it brings both of us.