Since moving here four weeks ago, the three of us have been sleeping more or less soundly.
It is surprisingly quiet here, and should we wake in the early hours, unless Maggie has asked to go out, we simply roll over and go back to sleep.
On the boat, if it rained we were never worried, as we knew that should the water level rise, so would we and we were safe and secure in our floating caravan.
We had heavy rain last night. Nothing to do with Storm Brian as far as I know (we’re on the other side of the country), but it came down in sheets and lashed against the windows.
I was awake anyway, the previous silence having disturbed my slumber.
Tuning out the rain, it was deathly quiet. That’s the only way I can describe it. Hubby wasn’t snoring or snuffling beside me despite his cold, and Maggie was equally silent, obviously in a deep untroubled sleep.
As I lay there, my mind started drifting towards Death.
It’s not really a subject I’d choose to discuss or write about, but it’s one of life’s absolute certainties, that we will all die one day.
My thoughts weren’t morbid though, more accepting and curious about the inevitable, wondering whether Death would come calling for me or I would go to It.
It would be nice to think that I would simply fall asleep and that would be that. In fact I cannot think of a better way to go and dearly wish that it happens that way for those I love.
Not that I am dwelling on those thoughts!
Just that in the early hours and in the total dark silence now that the rain had stopped, it was as if everything had just ‘paused’, waiting to be kick started with a snort, shift, whimper or stretch.
As if on cue, Maggie and Hubby did so in unison, and my world began again.
I rolled over, placed a hand on Hubby’s shoulder, and was asleep in minutes.