The way that the silence creeps in is slow.
But that isn't really true living here.
There is no true silence.
No quiet, really.
But one adjusts, and one takes what one can get.
So for now it is quiet, and soon it will be more so.
There is a bit of light, but not much.
I wait, listening to the rustling of a growing boy trying so hard to still himself.
The breathing soft and steady.
Traffic moves softly outside and there is a bit of a breeze.
The whir of a hard drive.
Sweaty beads of condensation on my glass of ice.
That's a game of patience right there.
I just wrestle with the situations over and over again.
I think I got a good hold and then in a blink I am flipped on my back
with a weight on my throat.
But you know.