It is being the first–under big, thick flakes–to make tracks in the snow.
It is a refusal to cry when it hurts.
It is the time in the morning between leaving the bed and opening the door, the time before she says, “I need help with my princess dress, Mommy.”
It is elbow-to-elbow, alone, in a movie theater.
It is a closed van door after three daughters have been yanked from their monkey play and buckled in their seats.
It is the space between the smack on the concrete and a daughter’s scream.
It is relief after a Saturday of Disney Junior is turned off.
It is liberation once all three daughters have gone to sleep.
It is a decision to ignore the anger and walk.
It is a choice to be kind.
Inspired by the DPchallenge to write about how we interact with silence.