The Space Between Seconds

Snow makes everything so quiet doesn’t it?
Even your heartbeat, usually thrumming in your ears, 
or the ticking of the giant clock in the kitchen that 
reverberates through the house, careening off the high ceilings to trickle in 
under your doorway, sneaking into your awareness. 
Even the soft creaking of the house as it sighs and settles and wonders when the sun will warm its wooden bones again. 
Even the meows of the neighbors cat, who sometimes greets you as he makes his rounds, protecting the neighborhood from feline intruders. 
Even distant traffic, streets away from your cozy house and yet you can see the glimmer-flickering of the headlights ricocheting off windows and past your eyelashes. 
Even the pages of your mother’s well-loved book, slightly yellowing and curved at the spine, 
turning with her thumb as she sits, engrossed in the story once again. Like new. 

It all slows down till seconds flow into minutes, 
each snowflake dancing its way to the ground, taking its time
– and it has eternity –
and certainly never taking the direct route. 
And in that space between seconds 

the deepest quiet. 

If you try not to make a sound, you can almost hear it. 

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