Peace and quiet. All of us are guilty of saying something akin to we never get any or we want more. We seem to think there is always too much happening and peace and quiet is the answer to stealing a brief moment of happiness or relaxation or whatever it is we are looking for.
This is especially true among parents as they rush children from home to school and back, from one sporting event to another, to the doctor, the dentist, the babysitter – the list is endless as toddlers grow into young adults.
Those of us whose offspring have grown into adulthood are just as guilty. We just complain from a different direction. We blame work, chores, our own organizations, anything we can find for leaving us no time to just do nothing.
I’m just as guilty when I catch myself thinking “I just need a break,” which can be anything from cutting the grass to being alone with no noise, a small feat in itself but a possible one. This past weekend, on an eight-and-a-half hour ride back from Ohio, I turned the radio off just to have time to think.
Most of the past three days had been filled with the three grandkids. At ages 4, 9 and 12, there was plenty of noise and excitement with little time for a breather.
Outside, in the back yard, they yelled and screamed as we played with the dogs and chose teams for a game of baseball.
The pool table brought plenty of vocal competition from the two boys. And with two boys, there was always disagreement, loud and long, over one thing or another. And there were the times to tell them again and again to do or not do something, to decide on what to eat or where to go.
We did avoid major injuries, except for once when a set of fingers got slammed in a door. But there was life after the smashing, whaling and a few tears.
But amongst the chaos, which I wouldn’t trade for anything, I found peace and quiet late one night. Everyone else was in bed asleep. Even the dogs were dog tired and had made their way to separate, darkened places.
There was no TV, no radio. I had even turned off the fan.
Then I realized how badly I hated this kind of peace and quiet. I hadn’t remembered feeling it since the second of the two Harbison boys who inhabited the house every day for a combined total of almost 30 years moved out. I thought how I regularly tell my parent friends, those with chaos-creating children, to enjoy every minute of it now for you’ll miss it some day.
Mom always called me a night owl, knowing I’d be awake long after the rest of the world had the good sense to call an end to a day. The peace and quiet was my own time.
It’s still that way. Even the dogs give up on me these days.
But sleeping children brought a different kind of quiet, one that created thoughts of emptiness instead of relaxation. The newfound stillness brought perspective to the difference.
Now it’s Sunday night and the grandkids are back with their parents. Everyone is awake, the TV is on and the dogs are staying in trouble. But in the next couple of hours the house will grow quiet again.
And I’m reminded of the age old lesson, be careful what you wish for, you may just get it.
Glenn Harbison is publisher and editor of The News Observer. He can be reached at 706-632-2019 or by email at glenn@thenewsobserver.com.