By Kerri Havnen Gordon
The Living Experiment
Days like today come along seldom in life, at least in my life. Today is precious, dreamy and entirely unprecedented.
You see, for the weekend, I am alone in my own house, except for my cat. With no one expected back for 48 hours, I hardly knew what to do with myself this morning. I vacillated between wanting to be ridiculously productive and longing to blow off everything I needed to do and simply revel in my solitude.
Our kids are gone for a two-week sleepover camp, and early this morning I dropped my husband at the airport for a two-day business trip. When I returned home with 48 hours to myself, the first thing I did was eat an entire mango, gleefully appreciating that I didn’t have to share it with anyone. The rest of the morning I putzed around a bit, leisurely petted my cat, sorted through the mail, gardened, checked my e-mail and then wasted two hours playing TriPeaks and FreeCell.
That became a bit fatiguing, so I took a nap, woke up and craved chocolate. I walked to the store and bought a single Haagen Dazs ice cream bar - 24 fat grams of pure indulgence. Clearly I had opted for reveling in the solitude over productivity. And once the lethargy had set in, there was no turning back.
A friend called me just as I was licking the last bit of chocolate off my lips. When I gloated about being alone, she exclaimed, “I am insanely jealous!”
But then I heard some kid noise in the background as her husband arrived home, and I became a tad jealous myself. I got off the phone and realized how very quiet it was. No TV, stereo or obnoxious computer game noises. There were no kids saying “I’m hungry” or complaining that there was nothing in the fridge to drink. No one asking me questions or making messes, no laundry to be done and no meals to prepare for anyone except myself. There was no energy in the house apart from my own. Surprisingly, I couldn’t decide whether I liked it.
This morning I had felt overwhelmed with all the possibilities. I could go window-shopping or see a movie. I could call a friend for lunch or take a walk. In the end, all I wanted to do was empty my thoughts and enjoy the quiet, immersing myself to the point of getting sick of it.
I think I’ve succeeded. Twelve hours into my solitude, I’m a bit bored and lonely, a situation unfathomable a mere day ago. I’m ready for some activity around here, ready for some kids traipsing in and out and slamming doors, bringing dirt with them on their shoes. I am even ready for a few completely unreasonable requests, such as that I make them dinner. Mostly I’m ready for some laughter and conversation.
Despite these conflicting feelings, I find this experience highly clarifying. With the house finally quiet enough for me to hear myself think, I am left with the cozy notion that I love the frenzy of my busy life, that the quiet I often long for is nice, but only for a little while. That life just about me even for a day is not all it’s cracked up to be, and that joy comes from interacting with others and getting things done.
I have another day of solitude tomorrow, but it won’t be so hedonistic. I’ll crank up the stereo, get to work on some long-neglected projects and connect with a friend. One day of quiet is quite enough.
Kerri Havnen Gordon writes The Living Experiment monthly for the Town Crier.
E-mail: livingexperiment@pacbell.net
