Alone

There are two afternoons a week when I am home alone. My husband works his second job and doesn't get home until 7, so I have two hours, two whole hours, of being in the house by myself. Why are they glorious? I can concentrate on me during those two hours. My reading. My eating. My writing. My being. When we are home together, it is about Us. Us eating. Us watching. Us being. But when I am home alone, I can focus on me. My needs. My wants.

Up until recently, my husband hasn't understood my need for alone time. He grew up with parents and grandparents that are. never. alone. His grandparents had nine children, so the children were never alone. He is one of thirty-two grandchildren, so he was never alone. He learned to function "alone" in the midst of a whole group, which is an amazing trait that I struggle with every time we are together with the whole clan.

I grew up so differently. It was just me and my brother with my parents. My extended family was much smaller. Even then, Mom had her things she did and so did Dad, and the same with my grandparents. My brother and I became those parts of my parents - the active social butterfly that is my mom and the quiet sports-obsessed reader that is my dad. We were left alone at home. We didn't expect to be entertained all day long. We focused on me.

So on an afternoon like today, I appreciate the alone time, with the husband working an extra shift. I appreciate the opportunity to sit and listen to the birds chirp and the cars pass, to write and reflect and sit. And who knows, maybe even catch some Zs. 

I know there will be plenty of times in my future when "alone" will feel sad, or empty, or difficult. But for now, I will celebrate being alone!