I love silence.

Quiet makes me happy.

Uninterrupted moments of no sound.

Soft breezes and cooling afternoons are everything, on a scale of one to everything.

But as I sit, quietly, in the quiet it’s there.

A reminder.

A taunt.

That it should be noisy here by now.

A child.

Or two.

Perhaps we should have even gotten a pet by now.

Rather than Ellie who we have to give back.

Another thing to give back.

Another thing that’s not ours.

Another thing we don’t have.

But then, in the quiet, I am reassured. Quieted.

I hear it clearly, just like when it directs me to pick up my keys just before I lock them in the car. My intuition. My guide. My inner knowing. My whatever the heck you want to call it. It says quietly to me, do what you have to and you’ll have what you want. It might as well have whispered in my ear. I hear it perfectly. And I know. That when I’m ready, I’ll have what I want. I trust it in the way that now I stop all other things to do as it says when it comes to the little things. It’s a source of faith for me now. I might just be believing in myself.

My voice, hasn’t once failed to warn me when I was about to lock my keys in the car. Why would it fail me now.

3 years and counting.