All Quiet

It’s funny just how loud Finley is.

I’m not necessarily talking about volume. Although a lack of volume control is something she inherited from her mother’s side of the family. I think when I mean loud I mean it as a constant hum. Kind of like when you’re on an airplane. There’s the sound of the engines, and after a while you get used to it. And if you’re like me, when you land, things seem a bit louder after all that buzzing in your ears. Maybe things aren’t louder, they are just a bit clearer.

At any rate, Finley – like all kids her age, I’m sure – is non-stop. I’m not saying it as a bad thing… I actually like the fact that she can consciously fill in the quiet gaps of her life with songs or words or something to keep her from getting bored. AND, it’s a great way to keep tabs on her. If it’s been quiet for a short time, she’s either fallen asleep or into something.

But just like anything, you don’t really notice all of this until it’s all gone. You see, Heather and Finley left Saturday for a week-long visit with Heather’s grandparents and cousins in Pennsylvania. And I have to tell you… The silence is deafening.

As much as I enjoy the private time and the quiet, I guess I’ve gotten used to the sounds those girls make. There’s no little patter of feet as they run from room to room getting this or playing with that. There’s no call to one of us for a Popsicle or to come play on the bed. There’s certainly no crying or scolding. But most of all, there’s no laughing.

And as I think about it, all of those noises are what make up the feeling of home. It’s the sound of family. Without it – without them – the place is so empty.

Even at bedtime, I find it hard to sleep properly. As a parent, there’s always that part of your brain that is actively listening for the slightest cry, cough, or call from the little one down the hall. I’m sure I’ll be fine, but it’s much harder to turn off that part of your mind than I thought.

And the mornings certainly aren’t as nice. There’s no little person climbing onto the bed and yelling at me to wake up. I have to rely on a more archaic, less loving alarm, these days. There’s no one to kiss me bye as I leave for work and no one waiting for me when I get home.

All those things – as little as they seem on a daily basis – start to pile up as missing when you’re all alone. I know it’s only been a couple of days since they left and as the days go by, I’ll get a little more used to them being gone. But I’m glad it’s only for the week.

When the week is up, I’ll be the one waiting for them to come home with kisses and hugs and I guess I’ll have to get used to all that noise, again. It’s a tough life, but I think I’ll get by. As long as the home is filled with the sound of family, things will be just fine.