Many people I know love the quiet of the early morning before anyone else in the family awakens. I don’t know that quiet. For one thing, to rise before my husband would mean being up at an earlier hour than I could possibly fathom. But on the rare occasion that I’ve been up—say if he is out of town and it’s just me and the kids—that quiet does nothing for me. I’m in constant anticipation of it being interrupted.
Instead, my favorite quiet of the day is in the morning after everyone leaves for school or work. It’s the quiet after the hustle of morning and before the bustle of evening. It’s quiet that I know will stretch uninterrupted for a period of time, depending, of course, on my plans for that day. Even when someone or something shatters this quiet, it’s an unanticipated interruption. I hadn’t been rendered immobile waiting for the interruption to come. Instead, I’ve absorbed the quiet and then dived into projects and activities I desire to accomplish.
Maybe this is why summer unsettles me. I rarely get that consistent quiet when everyone leaves the house at around the same time for an extended absence. I don’t get my quiet. Then again, maybe it’s good to have my world shaken up three months out of every twelve!