I have never paid mind to how disquieting quiet could be.
Every morning I wake before dawn and sit upon a dewy field to watch the sun greet the day in great calm, yet this morning I took in the silence of winter and I came to realize how rare it is--complete hush. My steps seemed to echo off the elms and I almost felt my breathing was disrupting the quietude. There was no chirp nor rustle; no crackling of a hearth nor sigh of a sleeping man. I think what brought me concern was the lack of comfort with the dearth of such utter stillness.
Anyhow.
I was reading a book about fruit and came to find that pumpkins were berries, and strawberries are not--peaches are much like nuts, and sweet-corn isn't a fruit at all. It seems awfully silly, but it is a modest reminder that things are not always as they seem to be, just like people.
On a brighter note, it is comical that a simple chore like fetching groceries with Alekay puts in perspective how easy it is sharing a life with him. I am falling--stumbling in love and I have no yearning to run for the hills. Perhaps my mother and I aren't as alike as I feared afterall.
Sleeping alone will never be the same.
