Hush

The quiet hush of daybreak permeates around the kitchen. Even the small clink of a knife clattering on the counter, or the margarine tub lid squeaking sounds deafening. I am hestitating to make any more noise, revelling in the absolute quiet around me. I need to have quiet to recharge. Somehow, my introversion provides the fuel for my extraversion.

The dawn is unfolding, shapes outside the window barely discernable from the blanket of night lifting slowly. In about two and a half hours, all the junior school children will line up in front of our driveway to step onto the bus, their chatter always reaching us as we too get ready for the day ahead. For now, the street is empty save the fading glow of the streetlamp and a cat slinking through a cedar hedge, looking for breakfast.

This is the time to write. This is the time to focus and create.

Yet I am sitting here, peanut butter in hand, and I want to remain still, unmoving even as the cursor blinks at me on the page. I want to envelope my shoulders in the peace that early morning can bring, and sink into the comfort it provides, if even for just a moment or two. My characters all have fingers to their lips, and are simply sitting with me, chin in hand, eyes closed and enjoying the respite. It’s been noisy lately.

So I will sit, and enjoy the absence of movement and sound around me, and gain energy from it. All too soon, it will be broken, and the rush will begin.

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