The sounds of a plastic bag being whisked through the house.
The television on a volume way too high.
Utensils scraping against plates. Or each other.
Like nails on a chalkboard for my sensitive ears.
My eyes flinch shut just a drop as I hear the squeak of the bones of my couch.
Pillows scatter the floor like a blanket.
I breathe in and out. Working towards a calmer me.
My head still pounding slightly.
My body aching to run. Wishing for a workout.
Honest. I do.
It's so hot.
The house quiets some.
Good Luck, Charlie is softer on the television.
I slip over to the table. Pop open my book.
Zone out for a little bit.
Watching her jump.
Letting her BE.
Breathing slowly. Hoping she doesn't get hurt.
I can't raise my voice anymore.
It hurts my eyes at the sound.
She's put down the flag, so that's a start.
It's not a toy. It's dangerous.
We're moving forward.
Even when sometimes my mind needs to take me somewhere else.
For just me.
With no sound.