Slice of Life Tuesday is hosted by Two Writing Teachers
It is late at night, and only our old house keeps me company with its sighs and creaks. This used to be the music hour when our kids lived at home. This was the time when, homework finally out of the way, our kids would practice their choir pieces, guitar riffs, harp and piano selections. Upstairs, as I drifted in and out of sleep, I would catch melodies and strains of notes from whichever child was practicing. In between, they would pause to meet at the kitchen island, to confer over a bowl of ice cream, or milk and cookies. The clink of plates and cups, and the low rumble of conversation would take the place of music. I’d glance at the clock, fret over the lateness of the hour and wonder if I should make my way downstairs and be the voice of reason: get to bed, already! tomorrow is a school day!
Now, the instruments lie idle, gather dust. In the stillness of the night, if I listen , I can remember the music hour…and how my children made this old house sing.