The Roar of Silence

They flew the coop.

The chickens, that is.

And so, I guess, did the boys in my house.

Our family hatched eggs this Spring.

As a rite of passage, my husband and son incubated and raised chicks.

Before our eyes, they grew.

As babies are wont to do.

Those chicks turned into birds.

They went from small and fluffy to large and feathery.

They were trying to fly.

It was time for them to move on to their permanent residence.

So, this weekend, my son and his father relocated the chicks to a farm.

They loaded enough clothing for a week and a cornucopia of toddler food staples and five feisty little birds into my husband’s SUV.

And then, waving, they pulled out of our garage and drove away.

The baby and I stayed behind.

I expected it to be a peaceful weekend.



Restorative, even.

No peeping birds.

No smell of chickens.

No worrying about whether their water was clean or if one had escaped.

No cries of “Mama! Mama!”

No “Uh, oh, she spit up!” or “I think she lost her paci.”

No feet pounding on the hardwood floors.

No jumping from the sofa to the ottoman and back again.

No snatching toys from the baby.

No sounds of vrooming trucks and chugging trains.

No little body climbing in my bed at 6:30 am, sharp, to let me know that his toddler alarm clock told him it was okay to get up.

No countless visits up and down the basement stairs to see his “baby chicks.”

No mad dash sprints to the potty.

No streams of never ending questions.

No “We can just pretend.”

No wrestling matches or bear hugs or arms clinging to my leg.

No tantrums.

No screams.

No finger paint in the bathtub or crayons at a restaurant or chalk on the sidewalk.

No serenades of made up songs.

No bicycle riding or rockwall climbing.

No “One more sip of water” or “Milk, please” or “I love you, Mama.”

Just me and the baby.

And the silence that roared louder than the sum of all the normal sounds of our home.

We had brunch. Twice.

We went shopping.

We cuddled on the sofa and rocked in the chair.

We read touch-and-feel books.

I got a massage.

It was exactly as I expected.

Calm and relaxing.


But maybe, perhaps, just a little too sedate.

Too quiet.

Lonely, even.

I’m glad my chick is on his way back home.

8 Responses to The Roar of Silence
  1. Jessica
    April 22, 2012 | 10:27 pm

    Beautifully written as always and so true, I always miss the wild of my kids as soon as it is calm.
    Jessica recently posted..Comment for a CauseMy Profile

  2. Alison@Mama Wants This
    April 22, 2012 | 10:32 pm

    It’s like a little taste of what life will be like as they grow up, spend more time away from home, then finally move out right?

    No, no, no, I refuse to think about it.
    Alison@Mama Wants This recently posted..I Wonder . . .My Profile

  3. Kimberly
    April 23, 2012 | 12:44 am

    I always long for some quiet time, but then once I get it I realize how much I miss the noise and the people around me.
    Kimberly recently posted..I Am So Much More Than ThatMy Profile

  4. JDaniel4's Mom
    April 23, 2012 | 7:19 am

    I love it when I have had enough down time and long for my guys to fill my life again. It sounds like you do too.

  5. Jessica
    April 23, 2012 | 10:47 am

    Those moments of quiet are perfect to help remind us that we like the loud.
    Jessica recently posted..“Two Pinkies Up” Tea PartyMy Profile

  6. […] weekend, my husband took our son and five chicks (!) to a farm near his hometown. I stayed home with the baby. In keeping with tradition, my husband gave me his “Dadlogs” of the trip. Well, […]

  7. Galit Breen
    April 26, 2012 | 4:32 pm

    Oh, how I get this.

    Silence can be so very LOUD.

    Beautifully told, you.
    Galit Breen recently posted..The 17 Day Diet Cycle 3My Profile

  8. Love-Sparks-Art
    April 28, 2012 | 10:29 am

    This is gorgeous – and so true! This is artfully written. Beautiful!
    Love-Sparks-Art recently posted..Making Boo Radley come outMy Profile

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