Quiet, But Not Really Quiet (With Thanks to Matilda)

Did you ever wonder what happened to the quiet, peaceful weekend you were supposed to have when you had no plans, or the quiet apartment you were supposed to have when the kids had gone to bed and you'd passed the time when noise is allowed by building rules? Quiet, it seems, is not really quiet.
 
Now, in these specific circumstances, I brought the "not really quiet" upon myself, simply by having children. Whether they're crying as infants or expressing themselves as teenagers, children are, by nature, designed to take away quiet, and not just the volume version. For, you see, when I talk about quiet, I'm talking not just about volume, but about peace of mind as well. And that kind of quiet is hard to come by, whether you have kids or not.
 
Quiet is having a clear head when you need one.
 
Quiet is the feeling that what needs to be done is done.
 
Quiet is the feeling that you can read, or craft, or whatever it is you do with completely free time, without feeling as though you are neglecting something.
 
Quiet is the ability to be still--in your thoughts, in your choices, in where you are right now.
 
The truth is, quiet is not such a simple thing, and no matter how much I think I may crave quiet, it is perhaps the noise that really keeps me going. The constant striving for something different or better--the lack of quiet--is what keeps us active, and perhaps active, even if it's noisy, is the best way to be.
 
So, I can retreat if I want, shut out the noise when I need to (and believe me, sometimes I need to), but ultimately, it is the noise that will keep me striving for more, looking to make things better, and making sure life stays interesting, every single noisy day.