Deafening Silence

  I'm sure you've heard the saying, "Silence is deafening." I've been having a lot of that kind of silence here lately and I'm not even sure why. Maybe because Radley should be 13 months old and killing cats and eating kitty litter? Maybe because Revven plays with his BrumBrums alone or only has bigger girls to beat in the head with them? Perhaps it's the weather getting colder and I'm not sure if I dread it or welcome it like I did last year because it felt fitting for the coldness of horror in my heart.

  Whatever it is, in the last week especially, I can't hear silence in the house without hearing the silence. There's no baby sleeping loudly like babies do. I hear the silence, he's not crying because he's hungry or tired or fell trying to learn to walk or crawl or stand up.

  He's not learning any new words, like Dada or Mama or whatever name he would have invented for the girls or Revven. He's not valiantly trying to open the cupboards and throw pots and pans on the floor.

  He's not bellering because he wants to go eat dirt in the backyard. He's not wailing because he sat up under a chair and got his big head stuck. He's not falling asleep in my room and I don't have to wake up to help him with anything. He's not sharing a room with his big brother and causing me anxiety because I'm across the house from him. He's not going into his 12 month clothes. I don't have to change his diapers. He's not freaking me out by getting a cold or a fever.

  He's not happily humming to himself or making truck noises. He's not eating every scrap of food that falls to the floor faster than you can grab it up. He's not being a little squishy boy who loves to snuggle or a wild one who doesn't have time for such nonsense. He's not turning inside out with glee when his daddy comes home. He's not freaking out over a turd in the tub at bath time because I don't ever have to give him a bath and wonder what he's shrieking about.

  He's not annoying anybody when we do school by biting their toes or ripping their papers. He's not playing with the toilet paper or clogging the toilet with trucks. He's not crying because he got stuck behind the couch for the eighty-third time today. He's not opening the highboy to see how much fancy china he can smash.

  He's not learning to love Brussels sprouts or ice cream or coffee. He's not even grabbing my coffee cup and endangering his wellbeing for that matter. He's not gagging over peas or pumpkin pie. He not laughing when you tickle him, because he's not here. He's not here making my loud house louder.

  He's in heaven and heaven is a wonderful place. But you wanna know what I know? He's not here and the silence is deafening.