Other than the ringing in my ears and the curious repetitive thump of the cable box, my house has fallen silent.  Nothing interrupts the stillness for days on end.

I go about my chores and pleasant pursuits barely making any noise myself.  I rarely turn on the television or radio. Occasionally, my neighbor and I exchange a few words in our shared driveway.  The dog contents herself with short greetings and responds to brief instructions.

The view out my window as I write has not changed.  Occasionally I watch the neighbors coming and going.  I can almost hear their voices but can’t quite understand them.  I crane forward to see their miniature poodle scamper down the steps.  Then motion stops as they recede into their house or pull their vehicles down the driveway and out into the street.

My thoughts and I keep each other company.  My journal falls open to a fluttering of blank pages; what I have to say weighs too heavy for the pen.  My fingers hover over the keyboard.  Beside the pencil cup, my newest angel folds her hands in prayer.  She watches over me.  I feel safe.

It’s the thirteenth day of the twenty-ninth month of My Year Without Complaining.  Life continues.