On days like these ........

The rain sloshes outside my window bringing the only noise to my otherwise quiet household. An occasional clap of thunder couldn't disrupt this comfort of sorts and I am reminded that the silence is not bad but intimate. I find myself on these types of days staring into a wet world that beckons me to stay inside tucked far away from it's showers. It is on these days, in my place of refuge, as C.S. Lewis puts it, that "you can never get a cup of tea large enough or book long enough to suit me." Being alone is not lonely but inspiring. Swallowed by a big soft chair and embraced by a warm fuzzy blanket I welcome a journal as my only companion. Nostalgia fills the room and no dream is too big to imagine. I remember friends of old and friends of new and wonder how can you tell someone you truly enjoy being their friend without it being weird? I remember days when dad would tell us stories right before going to bed and I remember mom tucking us in right after that. I remember Gram singing a "bushel and a peck, a hug around the neck" and I remember listening to stories from PawPaw about the korean war. I reread past journal entries to remind me of days already gone. The pages are full of memorials encouraging me to press forward. Torn and wrinkled passages of time scribbled quickly and without thought speak more to me now in this quiet house than they did the moment I wrote them.  It's funny how insignificant things seem until you sit in an oversized chair and reflect.