As I walked out of the house this morning, I remembered that I have a hair dresser appointment scheduled for 6:00 tonight. I then realized that I had nothing to read!!!
Oh the horror! I can’t imagine sitting somewhere – anywhere for more than 6 minutes without opening a book. I think I would have a panic attack – one can only play so many games on one’s iPhone before going crazy.
So, I headed over to my bookshelf loaded with all of my favorites that I’ve acquired through the years. I say acquired because I hate to buy a book when I know that if I’m patient, I can get it at the library. I do; however, have a substantial amount of books on the shelf that were purchased for me or I gave in and bought with my gift cards.
I spied May Sarton’s “Journal of a Solitude” and immediately knew this was the right one for today. I’m feeling very “alone” lately – sometimes lonely, sometimes just alone. When my children were all little, I longed for the days that I could take a nap. Now I go to bed at 9:00 because the house is too quiet.
My children are all grown. My daughter has become a successful, friendly, motivated woman. She gets up and goes to work everyday and is saving her money for her wedding in December. She and her fiancé invite us over to their home for dinner that they cook together while chuckling at the exploits of their two little kittens.
I fear that both of my boys will always take the bumpy, pot-hole ridden road, even when the smooth, new highway is right next to them.
It’s time for me to accept this solitude with open arms. Solitude is not necessarily a bad thing but since the diagnosis of agoraphobia runs rampant through the family gene pool that I’m swimming in, I have to be careful that I don’t get too comfortable with the quiet. Both my father and eldest sister are in the grips of agoraphobia and both would be happy if they never got off of the couch again.