For what feels like the first time in six years, the house is quiet.
Quiet. Peaceful. No small footprints stain my clean floor. The toys are in their place. The bathroom hand towel is relatively dry. No squabbling over a special Lego. It's what I've longed for, and yet a part of me feels incomplete.
I thought I'd love this, and a part of me does. But a part of me also hates it.
For the first time, both my boys are in school...the entire day. I shed tears at the thought of Noah, my youngest, getting on the bus this morning. He slid toward a window seat, his little fingers frantically wiping off the fog on the bus window so that he could wave at his father and I, a big smile plastered to his face. It's enough to break my heart, and yet I can't help but be excited at this new chapter in my life.
I've been asked a certain question several times over the past few months: "What are you going to do with yourself?"
I've spouted off answers.
"Finally get some serious exercising in."
"Oh, I'll keep busy with Dan's business."
Or the ever vague, "I think I'll just take a breather after these last six years."
While every answer is true, rarely do I admit what is heavy on my heart. My spirit is filled with excitement to have a long chunk of quiet, uninterrupted time to create. To write. The time has come to set some serious goals. No excuses. Just do it.
And so while I type away in my quiet home, I'm filled with inspiration and wondering if the desires God's placed in my heart will ever bear fruit. But still...I'm going to miss those little arms around my waist midday.
Good thing for me the bus will be back in forty minutes. :)