Little Moments

There

Are nights when my apartment is so quiet that I can hear my faucet pattering. I am not sure which faucet, as I have just gotten into bed and my legs ache, oh do they ache from the constant rustling of my day. So, I lay in bed and listen to the faucet slowly dripping and wonder if it's the kitchen sink, bathroom sink, or the bathtub who is the culprit. The point is that my legs ache and I don't care enough about the dripping to stop it.  I listen and almost anticipate when the next drop will hit the cold granite of my sink (I think it's granite). Instead of counting sheep, I count water patters and the seconds between them. The pattering is enterrupted by Jacksens crunching on his dog food and the sound of his collar hitting his bowl. I think its funny that dogs can eat this late, and I also think it's funny that he carries every bite into my bedroom before chewing it as if to tell me he's still here. I wonder if dogs can feel the lonlieness that people radiate.  I wonder if Jacksen knows that this apartment is empty, that it echo's and creaks or that I count the water dripping in between his chomping of food. There is a certain kind of feeling you get whem you are laying in bed contemplating life. There is a separation between you and the world. There is that split second where everything slows down and you can breathe, you can count if you want to. You can sigh your breaths of relaxation and wonder about the little things. As I listen to the pitter patter of my faucet and Jacksen chowing down I realize how much moments like these count. How much the stillness matters. How greatful I am for the little ridiculous moments that make up life.