There are many nights, like tonight, where I cannot get to bed. It’s as if I choose to be selfish and hoard the quiet. Roaring vehicles aren’t driving past; UPS has come and gone; the feathered creatures are resting their instruments. No surprises. The only thing registering in my brain is the light, familiar, soothing tip-taps of the keys on my MacBook. So comforting, like a soft down comforter on a cold night or an icy glass of sweet tea in the summer's scorching heat. I have control. I can edit, delete, copy and paste. I can think before I speak by typing, re-reading, re-reading again, then post (less chances of offending or hurting or over-sharing). I can delay, I can speed things up. I can imagine and tell the truth. And because I don’t feel particularly successful today, I don’t want the day to end—because there’s still a chance. Yes. Still there is a chance to share my heart, send that email, find that job, create a new world, begin my future.
But in this very moment, I suddenly realize what I really need is to be in the moment, with the quiet, take that breath, and the success is there. The challenge and the gift is this present moment. It's all I've got.
And I can finally enjoy the quiet. True quiet. For once.