Quiet
Morning Coffee
The quiet and stillness of early mornings. Soft breezes blowing through the screen of the window onto my tired eyes, flowing past the tropical flora and fauna resting just outside. The glimmering sunlight peering in, softly warming my fluttering eyelashes as I wished to remain asleep. This quiet is warm and serene. It is a haven hidden from disruption and chaos. The only interruption that is welcomed is the kind gesture of coffee. You make my morning indulgence exactly how I prefer it; you take care to measure the milk right, warming it perfectly, and brewing freshly crushed beans right over the dairy. The smell of the hot beverage meets my nose and softly awakens me from the depths of slumber, followed by the gentleness of your voice. Soft whispers of “Good morning” and “be careful, it’s hot” become a daily ritual, kind and protective sweet nothings.
Absence of Noise
The house becomes quiet and eerily silent. I do not like this quiet. This quiet feels wrong. It feels like it’s going to grab me and pull me down into the abyss of loss, making me succumb to grief and sorrow. This quiet is more than just no noise; it is loudly quiet, too quiet. It is the absence of noise. The absence of you. The house felt quiet before, but true quiet is entirely different. I never thought I would notice the absence, but I did not realize how accustomed I became to the subtle sounds of your company. The jingles of tags around a collar, your song signaling your approach from down the hall. The tip-tapping of nails on the hardwood floor, the subtle tickle in my ear alerting me that you are near and moving about the first floor. The ringing of frequent vacuuming dulls and becomes the chore done the least, as there is no longer as much hair riddled about the carpet and tucked into the corners. But as many people may know, the hair never truly goes away. The deepest sighs of the sweetest freeloader drift off, no longer unimpressed with the lack of snacks every minute of the day. The slightest shift in the house causes me to turn abruptly, hoping you might have returned, but I am only greeted with emptiness. For someone who finds pleasure and serenity in quiet moments, I do not like this quiet. It only reminds me that you were once here, and your silent absence is deafening.
Peacefully alone
I have grown to enjoy quiet moments. After a time of pain and heartbreak, I enjoy taking time for silence. These times may include contemplation, many may not; I use this time to recharge from the continuous expectations and needs of the world outside my space. My days are often non-stop. I work to earn money, I attend school to earn knowledge, I prioritize relationships and friendships to gain joy, and once I return home, I crave moments to simply stare into nothing and escape the reality that requires so much of me. I sometimes use this time to watch various media to zone out, to allow my consciousness to drift and mix with the sounds and pretty colors. Other times I use the time to exercise my mind by reading, journaling, and other crafting hobbies that require an active mind, seeking to learn and create new ideas. More times than not, I use the sacred moments to allow my brain to turn off and daydream; I dream of what I want to do, what I might do, and to imagine future moments I wish to happen. I enjoy allowing my mind to take a vacation for a short while, letting it blow off steam and return to me when it is satisfied with its time off from relentless use and thought. I enjoy this quiet. It may be a boring quiet, but it is a peaceful quiet. My private quiet.
Love’s Dose
Petals stretch out and up toward the sun,
inhaling its warm, radiant beams,
absorbing into their delicate extremities.
My arms reach out to you,
anxiously taking in your warmth,
consuming the feelings of affection you provide.
Like the sun does for the garden, you
breathe life into me. I am
rejuvenated,
replenished,
reborn
as you continue to love me.
My rose bushes bloom into fullness,
lacking their painful thorns.
The cherry blossoms awake, flushed,
fluttering in the wind of your sweeping currents.
Grand and strong trees stand tall and full,
full with iridescent green foliage,
rustling and dancing in the breeze of your force.
Kristen is currently studying literature and writing at CSUSM and enjoys writing fiction, poetry, and non-fiction. She enjoys reading fantasy, young romance, and mystery/thriller stories. She is originally from Seattle, Washington and has lived the latter half of her life in California. Kristen hopes to use her literature and writing degree to work for either an independent or major press and/or publishing company in the Pacific Northwest, while also hoping to publish her own written work one day.
