My house is very quiet. With the wee three gone and Matt at work, it's just me and the washing machine. And I love it. I don't want to do anything with this time. I don't want to go anywhere. I don't want to clean, I don't want to read. I don't even want to write.
I just want to sit and listen to it. The quiet.
I'm taking long, deep breaths. My heart rate is resting. I hear the voice(s) in my head. I wait.
At some point the actual writing here will start up again. My fuzzy brain will empty out and new ideas and questions and words will flow again. But for right now, for today or this week or however long it takes, I sit in the silence of the reprieve. I come home.