Relative Something

It is a quiet morning, other than the screeching girls playing outside in the neighbor’s yard. The temperatures are suddenly summer-like, for the last days of winter here in Minnesota, and windows are thrown open and all the sights, sounds, smells, and screeches of the world are allowed back into the house.

Cyndie is home for the weekend and is sleeping soundly next to me, regardless the racket next door.

I am feeling grateful, …and quiet.