It is Spring Break here. The house is eerily quiet at this hour of the morning.
Usually it would be filled with the sounds of preparation for school and work: coffee would be brewing, breakfast would be cooking, semi-conscious child would be stumbling around getting ready as the alarm was going off in another's room as she slept through it.
Syrah the Mighty sighs and rolls over to one side. The rabbits gently crunch away at their pellets. My clicking of the keyboard, of course. But other than that, nothing.
I do not quite know why I am so attuned to the silence this morning - maybe simply because I have become so used to such sounds of late that their absence is completely jarring. Or perhaps there is something in my soul that is craving the silence that it hears at the moment.
All will be back to normal soon enough, of course: Spring Break will pass and we will lurch into the last part of the school year. But there is a hint here of a future which is coming all to soon, a future in which the silent morning will become every morning, not just the one's around Spring Break.