The room is dark.
The only light on is the small bulb that brightens the hallway between the bedroom and the bath.
It's enough - though - for me to see whatever it is I am focused on at the moment.
A book? Sure. Sometimes the lack of overhead hurts my eyes. But I can see well enough to dive in and become a part of the storyline that absorbs me through to my soul.
My iPad? Sure. My connection to the outside world. With a small escape from that which surrounds me. A peek on Twitter. A conversation 140 characters. What more do I really need? Perhaps for some that is not quiet enough, but for me, it gives me a way of finding out what's happening with the people I know and have learned to love. An extended family of some. Friends. News stories. Entertainment. Humor. Much needed humor.
The TV? Yeah - maybe. It can be on, maybe an episode from The Food Network that I can just watch and enjoy. (Thanks, Aarti and Ree!)
Or maybe I'm just there, in the dark. Thinking.
Though it's probably the reason I stay awake so late at night. That my *quiet place* is where I do all this other stuff. And then when it is actually time to close my eyes, I can't.
I've read that the bedroom and the bed should be saved for sleep and only sleep (and, ehem, okay, other things). So why is it that I find myself most easily when I am curled up, or laying flat out, crunched up on some pillows, losing or finding focus in my king-sized bed?
This post was a response to the Write on Edge RemembeRED post today about our Quiet Place. Where's yours?