I carried my sleeping son over the threshold, into my quiet home. His once shorten legs now dangle well past my thighs and his weight is noticeably heavier, as I shift his sleeping body in my arms. We just returned from dropping my daughter off at school. I placed my son in his superheroes bed, with his favorite doggy and blanket nestled beside him. He stirred once and rolled onto his side, resting with a smile engraved on his face. I stand and stare, like all parents do when they admire the beauty and peace their sleeping child exudes. I kissed him gently on his little chubby cheek before I go about my next two hours of cleaning and straightening up from our morning.
I do a quick sweep of the house, but then I stop and admire some of the random misplaced belongings I find along the way. Within seconds, I'm immediately transported. I sit back onto my couch, holding my daughter's favorite doll, Curly Shirley, that I found on my sitting room floor. Her once vibrant colors are now faded with a gray hue from no doubt, the numerous washer machine trips. I could remember my daughter laying in her moses basket, with her one month old arm draped snugly around this doll. Curly Shirley has been there for late nights and early mornings and everything in between. It brings me back to a time when she was so little and yearning for all the comforts of mom. A time that doesn't feel that long ago, but long enough that the images displayed in my mind are becoming blurry.
When my home is quiet, I become restless from the memories that run through my open thoughts. I become nostalgic from all the memories that are so quickly fleeting in my motherhood journey. I find myself sitting and counting the minutes away until my son wakes from his nap, or when my high energy daughter runs to me once again.
She'll burst through that door, chattering like an auctioneer, all about her day. I'll sit and listen and admire how grown up she is, from only a short time ago. Then she'll leave me to roller skate around our home a few dozen times, while pretending she's at a skating party with all her friends. Then she'll loop back around to tell me something that she forgot. My son will randomly unearth from the playroom to tell me about his batman guys and what adventures he's partaking on. He'll tell me how the Joker is creating havoc around Gotham City, but thankfully the Justice League is there to put him in jail...
...And both children will talk over each other to see who could reach the highest volume, the quickest. And just like that, my temporary quiet home is once again filled with the calming chatter of noise and conversations. These are the sounds that comfort my soul and set my mind at ease. Without these sounds, my mind would continue to wander without bounds, never finding a destination that satisfies. Its reins are bounded by my children... They are and will forever be, my identity.
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