It's Quiet

It’s quiet.  Steve is up in the mountains.  Both boys are back in school.  I am alone in my house.  Solitude.  

Usually moments like this feel unsettling to me.

I like to be filled with the busy.  I’m best in motion.  But I like MY busy.  And lately it’s been all about THEM busy.

The paradox of the COVID years with young children.  Busy with kids, with meals, with making messes and cleaning them up.  Busy with bedtime routines and no routines at all.  Busy.  The kind where you run as fast as you can, just to stay in the same place.  Pretending that a perfectly clean house, with perfectly organized drawers, gives you some kind of control over a tomorrow that is going to come with its own set of twists of turns, whether all your pantry labels face the same direction not.  (Hello, Omicron.)

And then finally, the evening comes.  And you sit down to work and then practice a healthy dose of “revenge bedtime procrastination.”  Scroll.  Scroll.  Scroll.  A bowl of cereal and Real Housewives of Anywhere.  Til it’s too late and you fall asleep mid-something to make sure your mind, body, soul have no time to process what the heck is actually going on.

The past six-weeks have included winter break and distance learning.  A constant need to be Mom.  

The past two-years have included a husband who has never returned to his corporate office.  His commute from the 1st bedroom, past the 2nd bedroom, to the 3rd.  I love his evergreen presence - but in his absence, I am also realizing the constant need to be Wife. 

Now even he is gone.  The boys are gone. 

And here I am.  Not filling the days.  Just being.  Letting it all settle.  The static quieting into a gentle hum. Not so much of an exhale.  But a giant sigh.  It’s not self-care.  It’s just self.  

It’s quiet.  Steve is up in the mountains.  Both boys are back in school.  I am alone in my house.  Solitude.