Thoughts from a quiet morning
My roommates are gone. This has only happened one other time, when I am here and both of them are away, and last time it was a highly anticipated event. Not because I don’t like them and spend my days secretly hoping they’ll leave, but because I spent a long, long time living by myself and I thought I would enjoy the temporary return to solitude.
I for sure did not.
It took me two days to adjust to the silence. By the third and final day, I had gotten back into the swing of solo things, but even then, it wasn’t like I was jumping up and down about it.
I’m flying a little less solo today. Olive is here and is quite skilled at making her presence known… like right now, in this very moment, as she is fulfilling her life’s purpose: scaring the squirrels away from our neighbor’s bird feeder using only the power of her voice.
It’s safe to say there is less silence to adjust to this time around.
Even still, I’m sitting on our couch writing this with the windows open and hot coffee next to me and the birds are singing and Olive is not singing anymore and everything is lovely. It’s a beautiful, quiet moment and I love it very much.
But I’m still excited for our house to be full again.
It reminds me that this post is still true—that every good thing I adore was once a good thing I didn’t know or didn’t think I wanted. The fact that at one time, I couldn’t imagine my life with roommates and at this time, I can’t imagine my life without them seems like more evidence that the future can’t be all that terrible. Because the future is filled with things I don’t know yet, but in a year or two, I probably won’t be able to imagine my life without them.
It’s today’s pomegranate popsicle reminder, and I’m grateful for it.