The Quiet Nights

Quiet nights a year ago meant loneliness. I recall so many nights where my kids would be asleep and I’d be sitting in my dark living room, with nothing but the gorgeous (yet depressing) sound of Ray LaMontagne’s voice playing over my phone’s speaker. It was a time when quiet meant sad. And I would be left to my memories. My regrets. My “shoulda, coulda woulda’s” of the previous three years. They were the nights where friends left too early, and kids were tired too soon.

Tonight my house is nearly silent. But my heart is oozing with love.

I have a sick Little sleeping next to me, surrounded by 3,209 (used) tissues. I look at her wide-open mouth, listen to her subtle snore, and obsess over her perfectly messy messy-bun, and can’t help but smile. I just crawled back into bed after tucking in my other Little, though I can still hear him messing with one of his 412 fidget spinners. He unwrapped himself from his burrito-tucked blankets to hug me, something I’m not sure I would have even undone. It was a SOLID burrito-wrap!

Gone are the days of legit depression over a quiet house. Tonight, I am confident in the silence. Confident that this is exactly where I’m meant to be, and that a sick girl, and fidget-spinning little boy are enough for this Mama.

I got asked yesterday about my fear of “putting it all out there” on this blog. Let me tell you friends, there is something to be said about sharing your Ugly with other people. And let me be clear- I do not intend this to ever be a format for bashing my ex husband. There are realities to what happened in our relationship and thereafter, and what I’m writing is my version of the truth. His will look and sound completely different. My hope is that you, as a visitor of my truths, can trust that I am aware of my own shortcomings (as a wife, as a mother, as a partner, as a friend, as a “writer” and as a Christian), and HEAR.ME.SAY I KNOW, I KNOW, I KNOW, I KNOW that I married a good good man… but things got messy along the way and changed us both. And unfortunately, the deepened scars were too much for one of us to turn around. So no. I’m not afraid, and I’m not sorry for writing these memories.

Tonight’s silence is gorgeous. And I am incredibly thankful for Living through these quiet nights, because not so long ago, I was slowly dying, in silence.

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