It's 5:22 am.
This is my writing time. My me time.
I get up hours before everyone else so I can have time to just... BE before the day attacks me.
My days are full of noise. It's not bad noise, but it's sometimes smothering in it's constancy.
Little boys running, laughing, crying, fighting, loving, questioning, playing. The swish-swish of the washing machine, the thump-a-dump sound of the dryer. The click-click-click sound my gas burners make as they light. The tv on, the tv off, the sound of games being played. Books being read aloud, then read again and again. The front door opening and closing as we come and go for our day, the car door slamming, the engine firing to life as we move from one busy thing to another, and another, and another. The sounds of meals being prepared, then eaten, then cleared away. The vacuum running, the sound of the shower and the splashing as little boys wash away the little boy smell that really never completely goes away.
It's all so busy. It's all so loud to a mind that prefers to turn in on itself, a mind that needs the occasional sound of nothing in order to be able to sort out all the thoughts that are darting madly around. Sometimes my mind can't process anything correctly because of all the LOUD that just happens to be normal life.
So I get up out of bed and I come sit in the silence.
Sometimes I read. Sometimes I go for a run. Sometimes I just sit and drink my coffee and let my mind wander, free of the distractions that will come at the exact moment that the rest of the house wakes. But mostly I write.
I sit in front of my computer, and I can hear the gentle hum of it. It's soothing and steady.
My fingers make a click-click-click sound as I type, never fast enough to keep up with the thoughts that want to spill out of my brain because they need somewhere to go.
I hear the heat kick on, keeping my toes warm as I sit, bare feet against the cold hardwood.
But mostly, all I hear are the thoughts swirling frantically around in my mind. So many thoughts and so many things that need a place to go, but I can't make the words come out fast enough. Or the words come, but they're not quite right. They don't exactly convey the feelings I need them to convey.
I still keep writing them down, though. Because I have to.
And then... I hear the thump-thump-thump of little feet across the floor, and I hear a door open, and I squash all the loud thoughts in my head back down into a place that's not as immediate as the little boy who comes in to give me a sleepy good morning hug.
But I can still hear the words swirling around in my head, background noise to my already loud day.
And the words still want out.
Listen. Write about what you hear, right now.