The Quiet Room

I recently came upon a half hour massage gift certificate from last year. Perfect! After checking in, the salon staff moved me to 'the quiet room' with a glass of water before meeting the masseuse. It really was nothing more than a darkened hallway of wraparound cushy chairs with a waterfall focal point and flute music playing softly in the background.

The chair made me think of being at home in my favorite writing spot. My barrel chair sits low to the ground and wide enough to fold my knees up to rest the computer. It's so low, in fact, the dog claims me on her turf and rests her head on the edge of my knee as I stroke her ears and write.

I've tried to write other places, and sometimes do, in coffee shops or at my home away from home, but it's better here.

There is great peace in the perspective of surveying my home from down low, a straight view end to end all the way to the front door. After dusk, I sometimes light candles and turn the lights down, listening to logs crackle in the fireplace or rain tapping on the skylight. During the day, light streams in the windows onto abundant houseplants. Appliances hum and walls creak, sounds as comforting to me as those in the spa.

'The world is too much with us', Wordsworth wrote. But in my quiet space, life stills, rebuilds, rebalances my spirit. I wish the dentist's office had that.