As I sit in the eerily still and quiet house on this Sunday morning, I'm reminded of one of my most favourite things...
Sunday mornings. It's the only time of the week (save for holiday Monday's or Christmas) where the entire neighbourhood falls silent. I awake to hear birds chirping their morning songs, the odd rustle of feathers as the magpies settle on the rooftop and the gentle breaths of my little boy sleeping snugly beside me. Not far off in the kitchen, I hear my lovely fur-son, Max, rearrange his old weary bones in his crate and sometimes, I hear the soft snores of my husband.
No one is zipping off to work or school or the store for milk. No one is yelling or honking their horns on our street as they try to hurry up those the pick up for work. There are no roaring engines as they race up our street trying to beat traffic by cutting through our neighbourhood.
I lay still in my bed, listening to the sounds around me - the sounds of a world still sleeping and I feel peace.
When I was in the city I used to live on the main avenue to the hospital. Talk about never getting a moments rest. Nothing like moving to the country to get reacquainted with peace.
ReplyDeleteOh I understand that! When I first moved to the city, I was in the University district. Which meant I was adjacent to the hospital, beside the campus and off the major party avenue. After a while, I got so used to it! Now, when I go back to the country (my Mom's), the train whistle wakes me up every.single.night!
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