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solitude vs. being alone
Oct. 3rd, 2008 11:35 pmI love the fact that I work at home, that I don't have to make polite chit-chat to customers all day, that I don't have a boss hanging over my shoulder to see how I'm doing, that I can work on my own time at my own pace.
Moreover, I like quiet. One of the things that I love to do but haven't been able to in years is get up before anyone else and sit with a cup of tea and stare out at the dawn and think, maybe even journal. Most of the time, though, husband gets up early (like don't even ask early) to prep lessons or finish grading before heading off to the college. And as soon as he sees anyone else is up, the radio goes on so he can get his morning fix of NPR.
I can't even get quiet after he leaves for work (usually between 6:30 and 7) because I've got to get lunch together for the seven-year-old and make sure I've dealt with anything that had to be signed and walk to the school bus stop. The first chance I get for quiet most days is after 9, maybe 9:30, depending on when the baby drops off for a morning nap. Not exactly first thing.
Evenings are never quiet, either. Kids yelling and laughing, more NPR, the TV on after the seven-year-old's in bed . . .
So this weekend is, quite frankly, weird. Husband and the seven-year-old went off to Scout camp, and it has been quiet tonight.
Know what I discovered?
I miss the bustle. I still want some quiet time to myself, but there's something qualitatively different between taking time for myself before the noise of the day and having it be quiet because there's just no one there.
Yes, the baby's here, and the dog and the cat . . . but it's not the same.
Still, maybe I'll get up tomorrow and fix a cup of jasmine tea and stare out at the dawn and just think. They'll be back soon enough, and the noise and bustle will recommence. And perhaps I'll appreciate it more now, realizing how odd the house seems without it.
Moreover, I like quiet. One of the things that I love to do but haven't been able to in years is get up before anyone else and sit with a cup of tea and stare out at the dawn and think, maybe even journal. Most of the time, though, husband gets up early (like don't even ask early) to prep lessons or finish grading before heading off to the college. And as soon as he sees anyone else is up, the radio goes on so he can get his morning fix of NPR.
I can't even get quiet after he leaves for work (usually between 6:30 and 7) because I've got to get lunch together for the seven-year-old and make sure I've dealt with anything that had to be signed and walk to the school bus stop. The first chance I get for quiet most days is after 9, maybe 9:30, depending on when the baby drops off for a morning nap. Not exactly first thing.
Evenings are never quiet, either. Kids yelling and laughing, more NPR, the TV on after the seven-year-old's in bed . . .
So this weekend is, quite frankly, weird. Husband and the seven-year-old went off to Scout camp, and it has been quiet tonight.
Know what I discovered?
I miss the bustle. I still want some quiet time to myself, but there's something qualitatively different between taking time for myself before the noise of the day and having it be quiet because there's just no one there.
Yes, the baby's here, and the dog and the cat . . . but it's not the same.
Still, maybe I'll get up tomorrow and fix a cup of jasmine tea and stare out at the dawn and just think. They'll be back soon enough, and the noise and bustle will recommence. And perhaps I'll appreciate it more now, realizing how odd the house seems without it.
