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I leave my children chatting in the hallway outside their bedroom doors.  As I crawl into bed, my sixth grader and my eighth grader verbally rib each other in a way that only siblings can. They get loud for a brief moment.  The high-pitched giggle, the playfully exasperated growl.  I imagine that their antics will rouse Dom and bring out the Daddy-growl, but he breathes steadily beside me.  I won’t be reminding him tonight that someday we will miss this revelry.  The quiet we often long for will cover our home like a blanket soon enough.  These two noise-makers will grow up and leave our chipper little nest.

Tonight their chatter reassures me.  Before I am aware that the banter has stopped I hear his door close.  The hallway dims with the flip of her switch.

Silence.

I stare into wordless darkness for a few minutes before I bury my face in the pillow.  I pray that I will remember to appreciate the noise in our house, as it will only last for the next

six

short

years.

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