Quiet

I'm alone in the house. It's so quiet. Even though it's raining, I have
the windows open a little, and I can hear birds calling to each other.
I feel alone but not lonely. I sat out in the living room and watched
someTV on the channels I don't get because I don't have a cable box
yet. It felt uncomfortable, as if I was being watched, so although I
have run of the house I'm in my room with the door shut, Maudry on my lap, Jocelyn on the pillows behind me, and I'm writing this.

I left the window at the head of my bed open last night and listened to
the frogs singing. It's such a comforting sound, like falling not quite
asleep in the back seat of the car as a child; hearing nothing but the
car's engine and that moment when we arrived home and the car was shut
off - that moment just before my mom said, "Home again, home again,
jig-a-de-jig," the songs of the frogs lifting me up as if I were flying.

I miss those moments.