Solitude

Pissy Mood still in effect... however tonight my darling husband took the kids out to a baseball game and let me stay home alone. This is my heaven.

Solitude calls to me the way that a drink calls to an alcoholic, the way a fix calls to a user. Solitude whispers to me even in the dead of night and I wake up longing for it (but too lazy to get out of bed to access it!) I hunger for solitude all the way down in the core of my bones. It hurts.

Since beginning homeschooling my Chick a year and a half ago, solitude is rare - oh, I get out sometimes, with friends, with my husband, and even by myself at times and I always enjoy these diversions. I love spending time with my friends and my date nights with my husband are treasures to me. But time alone, in my house, is what my soul requires. Before schooling Chick, I had all 3 kids in public school. My time was delicious. It was so fulfilling. That time is gone.

Tonight is an appetizer of solitude. First I ran around doing some housework. I actually enjoy cleaning my house (especially when I am charged up on solitude!) I cleaned my kitchen and did the floors in the kitchen, dining, entry, and living rooms. I lit candles and turned off the TV and the computer and just hummed around in a mild state of delirieum. I called a few friends and played chase with the dog. I ran some laundry and then I put on my comfiest jammies and made some tea... and got sidetracked by the wallpaper border I'm trying to scrape off the kids bathroom wall and that kept me busy for a few minutes (the previous owners painted over a border and put up a new border right on top of it... ugh!).

I reheated my tea and sat down here to play with my solitude like a child with a new kids games!

And now, lest my solitude dissapears without my fully enjoying it, I'm off to make a bowl of ice cream and sit down with my new book and watch my pissy mood dissolve in the silence around me.

Awakening

Some days I awaken slowly. Stretching tip to toe and creaking and popping painfully. My mind wonders, "will today be any different? Will I drink a pot of coffee in cup after cup of cold forgotten-ness? Will I shuffle from one chore to the next debating over how badly it really needs doing? Will I look at my to do list with knots of anxiety, planning out how much longer I can make it before really having to go make that bank deposit/pick up milk?" Then I roll over and decide to get out of bed, decide to move, decide to see what happens.

Today I noticed the sun was shining and I didn't hear fat plops and whispers of rain, but the cheerful persistant call of birds. Today I stretched and creaked and popped my way downstairs to see my clean clean kitchen and shiny smooth floors, to see sunlight streaming through the pure white bow tied curtains at my window and the velvet scarlet of my rhododendrons outside. Today I poured my coffee and tasted the rich bitterness of it, hot and sweet in my mouth. Today I smelled the freshness of the morning when I fed my dog and we were both a little happier. Today I started laundry before I even drank my first cup of coffee and my day is already awake and going and I feel... unscared, unanxious, undark. I feel peaceful, reverent, easy and light. I feel the warmth of the sun on my back and it is good.

Today I will not worry about how long this peace will last, if it will carry me through the day or just until noon. Today I will not worry about tomorrow. Today I will not worry, but simply enjoy each moment that presents itself until that moment passes. And if the next moment brings back fear and anxiety, darkness or the sluggish immobility that comes with it, then I will accept that for what it is and wait for the next awakening.