It’s 1 o’clock in the morning and I should be sleeping. But I’m not. I’m sitting at the computer listening to the clock tick and the soft breathing of my baby’s sleep. It’s quiet. As a mother of 3 boys it’s so rare to experience near silence. I’m loathe to surrender to the sleep I truly need, because I can’t imagine not cherishing these few precious moments. Moments when I can think clearly. Moments without interruption. Even the gentle hum of the computer’s fan – a sound I rarely notice amidst the din of daily life – is like a gentle melody to me now. So soft and quiet. The lights are low and everyone sleeps but me. I close my eyes and simply relish the quiet, the restfulness of the moment. I consider taking a bath but the loud rush of water filling the tub would disturb the peace that floats like a thick fog in each room of the house. I think to read a book, but reluctantly dismiss the idea as irresponsible. It is late and the children will arise at their usual hour, blissfully ignorant of the sleep I sacrificed for just a few moments of quiet. A few moments of peace. With a sigh I rise and quietly move through my nightly routine, then take myself to bed. As I lie with my head on the pillow I pause once more, staring into the darkness, listening to the quiet of the night. I tell myself to drink it in. To remember this feeling. Then I close my eyes and accept the coming of a new day.