Quiet

The house is quiet tonight. A gentle rain brushes soft against the windows; the day was mostly not rainy except for small showers until after dark. Everyone has gone to bed and everyone except me is asleep. I listen to the quiet breathing, the rain, the hiss of the wind and recall the day.

We went out for breakfast, visited my booth at the antique mall and spent time outside, watching Larry and grandson Clayton add logs to Larry's small cabin, sitting on the porch and lounging around the firepit in the evening. Two went golfing for a while. When not outside, we cooked, making homemade mayonnaise, fruit salad and my canned mustard beans. Dinnertime was late as everyone finished up their day's activities, then we settled at the table for ham, salad, rolls and baked potatoes. Simple fare for a simple day.

We have visitors for the weekend for the first time since the holidays. I am enjoying catching up with my taller-than-me grandchildren, chatting with my daughter-in-law and my oldest son and just letting the day come and go as it will. We welcomed our third son home from yet another of his Army National Guard training missions; he returned from Indiana in time for a round of golf with his brother and dinner with all of us.

A full day of doing nothing of importance, and yet each moment is important. These times too shall pass and be looked back on with fondness and a tinge of regret--the grandchildren will grow up and move on to their own lives; we'll get older and be less able to keep up the pace we manage today. All things change. All people change too. Recognizing that fact only enhances the pleasure of what is now.

Tomorrow will, I hope, be more of the same: cooking and talking and laughing and remembering. Always remembering. And adding to the memories that are best savored in the quiet of a rainy night.