family room
I refuel on solitude, it enables me to like being with people.
I enjoy my own company, not exclusively,
but enough that it doesn't bother me to be alone.
Most of the time.
I think I am used to this "new" life,
until I realize how deafening silence can be,
and how tiring an empty house can make you.
I didn't realize, at the time it was full to overflowing,
the value of what I was in the midst of.
I think about my family.
Being a wife. Being mother/mommy/momma/Madre.
I think about the things that go along with those roles
and how their interests and activities filled my days and nights.
I remember the utter exhaustion at the end of many days.
I sit here on my couch by myself now.
Not nearly as much noise.
Almost no laundry.
Cooking only if and what I want to.
Cleaning is as infrequent as finding a four leaf clover.
I sit here and miss it all.
Even the overwhelming exhaustion.
But, if I stop,
if I look just right, I see my table surrounded by people I love,
"studying", laughing, talking, playing games or singing together.
I sit here and listen.
I hear the neighbor's truck rumble as it idles.
And I remember, first,
little feet running, little voices talking or laughing, and the other noises of family life.
And the gradual new noises maturity bring.
I often sit here on my couch, alone,
in this 2,000 plus square feet house.
Busy with the stuff that fills my days now.
It's different, without a doubt,
but different isn't bad, it's just different.
Sometimes though, memories of the people who have been in my home,
of the experiences we shared and of their shenanigans,
linger in my mind
so many that it doesn't seem possible my life has had room for all of them,
but it does-with room to spare for what is yet to come.
Nights like tonight I picture those I love.
Birthed and adopted in.
Friends and family and friends who've become family.
I sense their presence here with me,
and I know without a doubt, this home and my heart will never lack family room.
Comments
Post a Comment
thank you for taking the time to share