Quiet Revere Interrupted

This morning I woke up to the not-so-quiet sounds of the landscapers, followed shortly by the procession of trash cans to our corner dumpster. The latter is something we did not consider when choosing our unit two years ago. The train of over sized trash cans on wheels makes a monstrous racket every other day, usually just before 7 a.m. I thought 9 a.m. - 9 p.m. were quiet hours? I guess not. Oh well, so the quiet revere that I enjoy some mornings will not be had today. I just feel so much more happily awake after a few minutes of silence, alone, with 50-something degree breezes rustling the drapes and drifting through the house. A cup of hot tea as my only company (okay and sometimes an equally quiet cat). Those quiet, reflective moments are certainly some of my favorite. They energize me, breathe life into my soul even. (Doesn't that just prove my introverted nature?) I think, I pray, at times I read, always I reflect in perfect silence. And I find those moments too short each day. Too interrupted. Each morning as my time comes suddenly to a close, I silently wish that I had risen earlier than I did. To beat the trash men, to beat the awakening baby, to beat my "to do" list and all the things I need to get done before my doorbell rings with yet another baby wishing for attention.