You hopped a partially downed barbed wire fence, cross a dirt utility trail, and climbed a small hill of displaced dirt and…bam. Quiet in the middle of Orlando, Florida. You could sit there as long as you wanted (or until you couldn’t stand the mosquitos anymore) and just forget everything.
I don’t know what that’s like anymore. There’s never any real ‘quiet’ anymore. It’s always the running to-do list in my head. And what’s the baby into? Did she just wake up? What did the dog chew up now? Was that a cat jumping up on the counter? What could they possibly be into this time? If I think I have a moment, Megan tends to pop up and what to ask about things that she (9 times out of 10) doesn’t have to ask about. (She’s not really concerned about X, Y, or Z; she’s just looking for the attention. Constantly. It’s always like that since The Big Ugly Thing happened.)
I want to find some quiet again. I’m not totally sure how… In Illinois, we were close to a really large park and there was an isolated corner where you could lay down under a tree in the grass and accomplish the same thing. But Virginia was too crowded. There was never a quiet corner. Here is more of the same…people on top of people…even lurking in the ‘isolated’ corners. *sigh* Who wants to come build me a tree house? With a heater in it? And a book nook??