Moment of calm
For just this morning I can almost remember what it was like to be single.
The house is silent, Ava and T are absent from my morning rituals. Ava's loud request to get her out of her crib didn't wake me, nor did T stomping around. (On the hardwood floors, even the cats sound like they're stomping.)
No, for the morning it was just me and the cats. I made tea, ate banana bread that I made last night, which wasn't bad, but not so good that I'll share the recipe. I substituted some wheat flour and ground almonds for white flour and it's not quite moist enough.
I need to leave for work, but it's so still, so silent here, like the moment before or after a storm that I hesitate. Moments of calm don't come as often anymore and I want to draw the moment out, stretched long like bubble gum until the moment is clearly gone.
posted by Julie @ 7:47 AM
1 Comments:
It's strange that in this piece your whole life is a storm, or a series of storms. I think that's how I approach it, too. The calmness is eerie and unsettling -- the opposite of what we expect. I like the little tossed-in image about banana bread that's not moist enough. Not quite bad enough to be its own storm, but not quite good enough to celebrate. Wow, this piece is deep! It's all deliciously connected.
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