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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2257747-Quiet-Time---WC-518
Rated: E · Fiction · Spiritual · #2257747
The Writer's Cramp 9/3/21
Featured in "Spiritual Newsletter (September 15, 2021)



Quiet Time


It is too quiet. I can hear the clocks ticking, the sound of the traffic outside, dogs in the yards two houses away barking.

There used to be a time when I longed for this much quiet, when I wanted some peace. Then I wanted to change my name, run away from home, get a good night’s sleep for a change, without interruptions for every little crisis.

“Talk to me, George.” He sat in his favorite chair, reading a book.

“About what?” My husband put his finger in the book, glanced my way.

“Anything. The price of oil. The state of the Middle East. Why does the moon travel around the earth and the earth go around the sun? Tell me again how we met.” I just wanted some conversation.

“For goodness sake, Susie. It’s almost time for bed. I’m tired. What is the world are you going on about? You want a lecture at 9:00 at night? Can’t this wait?”

He did sound disgusted. Well, fine. Another boring night. I don’t go to bed at 9:00. Too many nights of chores after putting kids to bed has given me a habit of a few more hours before I’m ready to go to sleep.

“Fine. Never mind. Go to bed.” I gave him a cursory kiss. Then wandered to my craft room. It needed cleaning. As I picked up yarn and fabric, puttered a bit, a vision came to me.

This vision was of a wonderful kind woman. She spoke to me quietly.

“Susan Joann. You are troubled. You need to relax. Your children are fine. Your husband is fine. Remember when you wanted this quiet in your life?”

I sat in my sewing chair, concentrated on the shimmering image. I nodded my head. I remembered those crazy busy days and nights.

“Your prayers are answered now. You have the peace and quiet you asked for. Time for yourself. Time to learn about life. Time to love yourself. Time to be a good wife. Take this gift, Susan Joann. Use it wisely.”

My tears began, I started sobbing. I was grateful for the quiet, but I missed my children and all that busy time.

“Enjoy the time you have now. It will soon be over.” The mysterious vision disappeared.

“Soon be over?” What did that mean? I grabbed a notebook, wrote down all she said.

When I went to George, he was already asleep. So I curled up in his chair with a book and took some time to read. I had a book I’d been saving for some time. Then I wrote a few letters. Real letters on paper to my children, my friends, my cousin. I penned a special letter to my husband.

I enjoyed the quiet for the first time I could remember. The woman in my vision had shown me I could claim that quiet. It was my gift to myself. I had earned that. It was bought with the hard work of raising our children.

George found me in his chair the next morning. My time surely was over too soon.
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