The opposite of peace is...
...scrubbing the front of your house in the dark--but comfortable-for-December-fifty-degree-weather--while your son takes the screens from the windows and pretends they are surfboards.
...doing dishes while your two-year-old--unbeknownst to you--is flinging vegetable soup onto your kitchen cabinets.
...finding shredded dirty diapers in the dining room, the bedrooms, and the playroom, thanks to a few dogs who are feeling the neglect that is prepping the house.
...the sound of the nail gun, the cement grinder, the shop vac, and a trowel smearing grout on tile, all within about fifteen minutes of each other.
But peace is...
...spending time with a friend in the afternoon, sharing laughs and woes and updates.
...the incredible quiet that fills a room when Bing Crosby croons "Chestnuts roasting on an open fire."
...snuggled in a truck-and-plaid themed twin bed, sharing The Polar Express for the first time with the soup-wielding toddler, completely attentive and engrossed in the same story that filled you with giddy glee that just maybe Santa really does exist.
Santa does exist....cause we believe!
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