Rest, sweet rest

The TV is off, the book is shut...the light is still on, but soon to be extinguished as everything else that has wound down on this lovely, full-mooned night. To rest. Repose, sleep. Freedom from activity or labor, a place for resting, peace of mind or spirit, quiescent, motionless, free from anxieties, a letting go...those of you following along will know exactly where I got this list.

Sigh. To rest. I crave sleep (always, as a mother with a wee boy and a husband who's a pilot)(although I think it's par for the course for any mother, the rest is just extra). I live for the weekends when I can revel in a two-hour nap in the afternoons -- stolen time while the boy sleeps as well. Quiet-time just for me, on the couch in the living room...sweet, sweet naps!

But there's something to be said for the preparing of the night -- the night coming on, the feeling of sleepiness, the quiet that covers everything not unlike the cozy blankets on one's bed. I like -- no, love -- the idea of tiptoeing around the house, trying not only to keep from disturbing the sleeping Griffin, but to also not disturb this film of quiet, the aura of impending motionlessness, the glaze of heavy eyes and soon-to-be sweet dreams. I've been thinking about this nighttime silence for some time now, but of course, have totally succumbed to it and the much-needed slumber before I could take a few minutes to write about it (revel in it)...

Sunsets rather than sunrises. Always for me. The closing of the day -- regardless of how much was accomplished or left undone, how good or bad, successes or failures -- has a magic all its own. Is it hope? A promise of things to come when the day dawns anew? A peacefulness that comes from knowing that regardless of its events, this day has had its time and is now nearly over, past and complete? Or is it just sweet release from the day's busyness, craziness, go-go-goingness? A bit of all of it, but most of all, a letting go. A real sense of peace, not just peacefulness. Dropping the shoulders. Fully gathering the yawn, cozying under the covers, and resting. At rest. Ah, rest.