静か

The kettle steaming its way to a boil.
A delivery truck shifting gears.
The hamster obsessed with beating its own record on the wheel.
There is never complete silence here. Even at four in the morning.

My own father used to rise at this time every day and paint. I see how precious that time must have been for him, out in his ramshackle studio slash laundry room slash exercise room slash tool storage. Just to focus on his work, without any demands from others.

A father of four, a mother of four. Working more hours every week than we are scheduled. Both of us responsible for maintaining a balance at home, a calmness that the children rely on. Who among my children will inherit the early morning silence?