Last night, my husband and I decided to have several hours of "no technology" time.
We did not watch a movie or kill time staring into our computer screens. We did not make phone calls or text our friends. We did not even play classical music for background noise.
The living room was completely silent, save the rustling of pages and the occasional laugh or gasp from my husband, who was absorbed in book number six of Patrick O'Brian's
Master and Commander series. He had taken his shoes off, propped his feet up, and laid himself back, deep into our red and blue striped sofa.
Immersing myself in the ironing and cutting of fabric pieces to assemble into a summer quilt, I eventually loosened my mind from the vice of the day's troubles and allowed it room to breathe. The weather was warm enough for us to open our front window--an action that permitted a cool, spring breeze to periodically sweep through our apartment.
Kitty, of course, perched beside the window to listen to the chirping birds outside, to chirp back at them whenever they sang, and to monitor them as they busily made nests and gathered food for themselves and for their little ones.
From time to time, my husband would share the latest development from his story and I would update him on the progress of cut fabric. The final tally was 139 out of 300 pieces.
At one point, I moseyed into our kitchen to mix up two tall glasses of strawberry-limeade, a pleasant reward from last year's canning efforts. The sweet crimson tanginess of liquid poured over ice offered us a sublime sense of hope for the warmer seasons to come.
It was an evening well spent, full of tranquil surroundings and calmness of mind. That is what home should be.
