Quiet Music, Quiet House

Sleepy. Tired. Good junior high retreat this weekend. Came home Sun.evening, left to race to the airport for a quick pick up, home. Sleep. Work this morning.

Quiet music. Quiet house. Recuperating. Life’s good.

Beautiful rust-colored fall leaves; damp, cold rainy day makes scarves and turtlenecks cozy. Red blanket spread invitingly across my couch by my daughter. “Doesn’t it look nice, Mom?” she beams proudly. I hug her, hug my son, and hang out with my man.

Quiet music. Quiet house. Recuperating. Life’s good.

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