I had arrived home. My boys all retreated to their rooms. Even the dog was still. The only sound that remained was the soft bubbling of the crock pot on the kitchen counter. A feeling of guilt washed over me.

I should be chasing my boys off their screens. I should be playing with the dog. Vacuuming. Laundry. Dinner. A thousand things that I should be doing.

But the silence was beautiful and so rare. I welcomed it. I rested with it. An unexpected visitor that I invited to stay.

And the crock pot kept bubbling.