Strangely peaceful

I love a good oxymoron, me: and I'm not talking about Man Wonderful or insulting any other 'good man'!

Oxymorons are used to create more drama for the reader or listener.

A 'deafening silence' is a great example of one.   We've all experienced a sudden silence that is almost overwhelming, and this is a super way of describing this.

Someone who has a 'noticeable absence' is also a good example of this literary feature.

But it's the funny everyday ones that help to describe, perhaps, how we are feeling that I use - probably overuse if I'm honest.

Like today.

Let me explain.

We live surrounded by like-minded folk in a small community. Folk look out for each other, they are from all previous walks of life. Everyone stops to say 'good morning' or 'how's the dog' with everyone else: if, like this morning, we are sat at our little outdoor table with a cuppa enjoying our breakfast and listening to the day beginning, the someone will pop over and ask how our yesterday went, or tell us about their swim. 

And we are really lucky to live here in our tiny place. With just each other.

It's just.

Today is September 1st.

It's the first September in 26 years that I won't be going back to work after the holidays.
It's the first September in all those years that I'm not thinking about getting my work clothes ready, my sturdy shoes, my briefcase, my paperwork.
It's the first September in 41 years that I'm not getting ready for the start of a new term.

It's also deafeningly quiet this morning.
Perhaps children from houses nearby have gone to get last minute uniform or pencil cases, or are finding holiday projects they should have finished in the bottom of school bags along with a forgotten unwashed packed-lunched box (yuk!) and a very wrinkled tie..
Maybe they are enjoying one last lie-in before the early get-ups next week, or a cheeky last-minute couple of days at Butlins or Grandmas.
Or maybe it's my imagination.

But it is strangely peaceful.
It's peaceful.
And it feels very strange.

I feel well-cared for, yet very out of sorts.
Able yet disabled.

Like I am sitting in a no-mans' land between here and there.

I have good people near me.
Medications.
Crafts.
And I'm not living in a war zone, which I am eternally grateful for.

It's just.
It's strangely peaceful here this morning.