A moment of peace.

I never felt it before. I didn't know what it was. Things have been silenced, and suddenly I hear everything.

The voice has stopped; other noises come through. Do I recognise these noises? Vaguely. I couldn't hear them so well before. I couldn't hear how much Noah's kisses meant, when he would stroke my arm and rest his head on my shoulder. I couldn't hear the volume in Isaac's cuddles and sighs on my lap, when he would snuggle against me and gaze into my eyes.

"It's ok Mummy. There's a lot of noise Mummy. Can you hear us Mummy? We're still here Mummy.

It's ok, Mummy."

I can hear them now, and I feel overpowering love for my boys.

A moment of peace.

Just a moment.

Like the sun, it can fill every void. Like the very sky above us, it feels like it could go on for ever. I couldn't look into it before. The shadows consumed me; my depression made it easy to turn my back on the bright blue sky, look away from the energy-giving sun.

I look to the sun now and bathe in it's brightness. I turn to the light and I smile. A true, rich smile. Things I have never been able to do before. I absorb the energy; I gain strength.

I am filled with hope. I am content.


This post was written for Tara Cain's "The Gallery" and Josie George's "Writing Workshop"; please do go and visit to see more fabulous posts.