Quiet

I feel a little guilty but swallow it down as I pull on my big winter boots.  I shouldn’t feel guilty for leaving the house, for wanting an evening to myself.  I know that GC doesn’t feel guilty when he leaves the house multiple times a week to pursue his hobby.

I am just pursuing quiet.  Space.  Time for myself.

Can the pursuit of quiet be a hobby?

I have been craving quiet.  After spending eight days in Arizona with the Roc and then coming home to two days off of school because of wind chills that would literally freeze the skin off your face…I am in need of some quiet.

I stuff my laptop and kindle in my backpack, pour some coffee into my travel thermos, say goodbye and leave.

The sky is grey, the pale yellow sun drops into view at the end of a line of clouds, hanging onto the edge, then suddenly it is below the horizon.  The street lights come on, illuminating the dirty snow thrown into huge piles along our street.  The Roc waves to me behind the wood blinds.  I wave back, extra big, as I start down the street, not knowing if he can see me.  I turn the corner and my mind is still full of him.

Full of his words and the look on his face as he came through the door this afternoon, “Mommy…I have some bad news.”  Of the conversation I had with the school social worker about the incident at school, the “bad news.”  I imagine the scene, the snowball hitting his face, his anger, and all the comes after.  Him getting to close too the other kid.  “In his face,” I was told and then getting pushed.  “Pushed over,” the Roc told me.  I imagine the shove, the Roc falling through the air, his anger and embarrassment, and all that followed.  The screaming, the rest of the third grade filing into the cafeteria to witness his undoing, how it felt to be so out of control…

My mind is full of him.  It always is.

I need some quiet.

Some space.

Some time for myself.

The library is blissfully quiet as I enter.  I make my way to the back, to the tables with outlets, and set up.

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I go through my photos from Arizona and smile.

My mind is still full of him.

But I’ve found the quiet.

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9 thoughts on “Quiet

  1. There are checks and there are balances. I’m glad you found some balance. But I’m so sorry the Roc had such a tough day. Hope he’s doing all right now.

  2. So very sorry for the Roc and for you. Those days are very hard for our kiddos and for us. Sometimes I am thankful that my little one is so clueless about the world around so that it does not scare or scar her. (the judgment, the cruelness of other children and her not be able to “cope” as a neurotypical child.) BUT, I have a sign in my office that stares me in the face all day, every day and it reads….”The beauty of this life doesn’t exist without pain. BUT, neither does the pain exist without some beauty.” And my child is the MOST BEAUTIFUL THING and so is yours!!!

    Blessings!

  3. Sorry to hear of the tough day. Glad to hear you took some time for yourself. I loved your pictures from Arizona. Your son’s smile is incredible. He reminds me so much of mine, always wearing sports team gear and smiling on different adventures. Hope you have a peaceful weekend.

  4. Oh, sweetie, I’m so sorry the Roc had such a horrible “incident!” But I’m so glad you found an opportunity to get some quiet for yourself. Sometimes, we have to steal it in small chunks when the opportunity arises. Sending you love.

  5. I get these calls way too often. I often wonder what happens to the other child, or if it is only my child who is viewed as the “troublemaker”. I feel like it’s so hard for my son, so difficult to know exactly what’s going on around you but to not be able to control yourself, not have that inside you. To be sad afterward. To say “what happens if I still do this when I’m older?”
    It’s hard. It’s ok to have time to yourself. It’s ok to need a break. I have trouble with people saying “God only gives you what you can handle”. That’s not true – I know people who have caved and not been able to handle it. It’s ok to regroup.

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