Sunday, June 12, 2011


Hi, all!

Yes, I've been alone.  Totally alone for four days.  I am that person who not only does not mind being alone, I revel in it.  I like eating alone at restaurants, actually.  I love having the house to myself, plus my fluffy angel-cat, George.  I have missed my absent hubby and absent baby girl more than I can put into words, but the time alone has been a refreshing break for me.  I think the time having a "guy trip" and the grandparent time has done wonders for them, too.  We'll all be back here at the homestead come this evening.  Oh, the stories we will have to tell each other!  We are normally so immersed in each others' lives and the minute-by-minute happenings of each others' days.  Happily so.  So when we're apart, we come back together with this store of untold funnies and interesting sidebars.  Our feelings and observations have been held at bay for each other.  Home is where you really tell your story.  Immediate family is the ultimate audience.

I cannot wait to hear about Bourbon Street and Zydeco music and crawfish boils.  I cannot wait to hear about swimming with the baby cousin, a trip to the zoo with Uncle Charlie, and special treats with Oma and Opa.  Maybe they will laugh when I tell them about running home from a martini party to hunker down before another electric storm hit, Georgie-cat safe with me in bed, surrounded by candles and flashlights just-in-case.  Life goes on without each other, but, in a way, until my family is aware of the details, it doesn't.

I loved my alone time.  I wrote.  I slept in.  I did house projects, ran errands, attended meetings, and went out with friends, untethered, if you will.  But after a rare hiatus like this, I know that living alone is a nice type of "staycation" only.  Does the heart grow fonder?  Absolutely!  Out of sight, out of mind?  A little, I guess.  But I am ready for this empty house to be home again, full of stories and constant chatter.  It's messier and louder and less calm, but it's so much more alive.  I am comfortable with myself, after 40 years of learning to be, but I vastly prefer me as a part of "us." In a way, I am so much less without them, and everything seems to mean so much less until they are back.  People are not meant to be alone.

No comments:

Post a Comment