Dear Diary,
Today’s entry is brought to you by the letter ‘Q’. I like things quiet. Even from a young age, I liked the quiet. Libraries are a wonderful place where it is always quiet. When I was a kid, my younger sibling and older sibling would fight over music and turn their stereos louder and louder. When this happened I would take whatever book I was reading outside and sit in the peach tree in our back yard, when the weather was bad I would grab a flashlight and take refuge in my parent’s closet. My parent’s room was at the other end of the house and the walk-in closet had a door that I would close, then I would crawl over shoes and boxes into the nook in the corner and read in the beautiful silence. When my parents divorced YS responded vocally and loudly and I spent almost every night after homework in the closet reading and escaping the noise.
I still like quiet. I’m lucky to have respectful neighbors that we hardly ever hear. It works out nicely that SO is also content in quiet. Unless we are watching a movie the only sound you hear in our room is the clicking of keys or the turning of pages. The only issue with this is we want to foster kids and kids are not quiet. I often wonder how parents don’t loose their minds or at least have ear plugs surgically implanted. I know that fostering kids will be so rewarding and that SO and I will make wonderful foster parents, I’m just not sure how I will adapt to noise. Our friends have kids and we are fine around them, even though they are not quiet, but not everyday. I’m probably one of a handful of people who think about thinks like this when thinking of parenthood. For now I’ll just enjoy the quiet and daydream about the noisy and hectic times I hope our in our future.
Until next time,
Me
