The clock radio coming on at 6.30am....
The soothing tones of the newsreaders talking us awake.
The silence of the house as himself and I quietly wake up with coffee,
The more organised sounds of lunch boxes being filled and animals getting fed.
The stockinged feet of boys as they come down tousled haired and bleary eyed.
The concentrated crunching of breakfast being consumed and boys chatting.
The hasty rush of books and haversacks being loaded into the car,
And urgent voices as things that had been forgotten were now being remembered.
The timbre of the car with the same newsreaders still giving voice to the same news.
Boys and friends chatting, talking, scrapping and laughing.
The sudden boisterous greetings then parting of children at school.
The return journey, silence gently coated with the newsreaders politely interrogating their guests.
Home.
The clamour of the chooks being fed, the birds chirruping in the garden.
The rumble of the washing machine, the newsreaders giving way to DJ's and their music.
The swish of the dog's tail and purr of the cat by the fire.
The pleasant chatter of friends as they unexpectedly pop in for tea and company.
The swapping of fabric shop addresses and news and views.
Then the silence wraps gently around me as once more the house is mine.
The washing machine still churning methodically in the kitchen,
the DJ still wittering to an unlistening audience
as I enjoy the movement through time whilst I do the things that I do.
The boys blankets are growing - Eldest is green and Youngest chose red
They are lovely and warm to work with -
winter is definitely the time to make heirlooms.
Hawthorn, I remember those mornings perfectly. I don't think I appreciated them as much as I should have. Now it's just very, very quiet when I wake up (and that's usually at about 3:00 a.m. due to a two-week fight with insomnia). I've resorted to making my husband's lunch, which is a first for me. He's starting to get very, very confused. haha
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