I am a mother of three, and one stirs inside me now. I crave quiet and solitude like a diet-starved chocoholic craves just...one...piece. Most moments are so bursting with sound that I cannot discern the individual notes. Most moments feel like a storming of the senses. I hear cries from bonked heads, requests for string to be tied to airplanes, and complaints about peels on apples. I stumble over sticks left in the hallway and pick up the strewn couch cushions for the millionth time. I test food that is too hot, kiss fingers slammed in doors, and lick dripping peanut butter off ants-on-a-log. It is beautiful, but it is also cacophony. It is easy to feel lost in it. Is it possible to see through all this, see in this? Sometimes I feel claustrophobic. Can I learn to breathe in the moment rather than hold my breath until the next opportunity for space? This is my wish. To learn to breathe and see and carry the wonder even through the heaviest of cacophony. Because I am a mother of three, soon four, and I must do this to Live.