Lullaby

The last week of my life has felt like a year.
I worked 12-14 hours of every day, travelled across 1 province and 3 states, and did so with company that 9 days ago were strangers. I have been through a gamut of emotions and feel like a stone that was wrung until water poured out.
I am now lying once again on my own little bed with its familiar lilac comforter, in my new purple sweater, listening to a country lullaby. I am still. I am still for the first time in hundreds of hours.

Still.

The chaos of a busy life rarely affords me these moments -- or rather my choice to live busily offers me a chaos as an excuse to neglecting these moments. But right now I am not afraid of these slow silent minutes to just be. I have cried, strived, and broken these week and I am now not afraid of what may come out if I face the solitude, the stillness, the silence.

Until the sun breaks tomorrow morning, ushering in a new week where hidden flaws may surface, confidence crack, or expectations heighten -- I can just be; silent, still, and listening. Listening to the lullaby that holds and rocks me like a gentle breath.