The noise in my car began right after my first child was born. It was a crying baby, while I was busy driving. That noise soon turned to a child asking a million questions, each followed by, “why.” Soon, the noise was three children arguing over how much of the back seat was their space and without warning it turned into a near heart attack experience when I got in the car and thought there was an explosion because my teenager had left the radio turned up so loud the sudden bust of sound when the engine turned over was a really frightening experience.

It wasn’t until much later that the noise in my car was the continuous conversation that goes on inside my head. It took some getting used to…listening to myself, finding out who I was, what I thought about, what was important to me, when no one and nothing was demanding my immediate attention. I was glad that I had good things to think about. For the most part, I have good thoughts about people and things. I enjoy the news and the music floating out of my radio.

Then after a week with my grandchildren I realized how familiar and comfortable I was with myself. As much as I adore my grandchildren, I found it very distracting to have to stop and listen to what they had to say rather than enjoy my own mental monologue. By the end of the week, I had fallen into the pattern of thinking, listening, answering and thinking again.

Now, that I am home I realize the noise in the car -- the noise of children laughing, talking, playing can't be beat and now, as I listen to the noise in my car, I miss those little voices and can't wait to hear them again.