i often wonder...
as i'm tidying up from the day,
with my little ones tucked up in their beds,
curled around their various stuffed "friends",
but not necessarily sleeping...
how much of my thumping and bumping do they actually hear?
the dishes clank.
the water runs.
the coffee grinder whirs.
the dryer hums.
the toys are picked up (sometimes).
i think back to when i was maybe five...or six.
i remember the nighttime noises...
listening to my parents "close up shop" and the rhythm of my breath.
often my dad would work.
we had a computer...even then.
then, when it wasn't compulsory.
a monstrous thing with a black screen and a teeny C:// blinking in yellow at the top.
i remember hearing the clack of the keys...
and the syncopated hum of the printer.
i must have, at least once, stolen out of the protective warmth of the covers to watch through the slats at the top of the stairs.
i can see, in my mind's eye, the paper feeding through the machine in long, white strips.
i often think about that...
as the day ends.