I sit here alone, on a Saturday evening. I don’t want to be anywhere else. My son is with his Dad and his half-sister. They all went to a movie. :)
Nothing on tv. I rented Babel, but got bored really fast. Not in the mood, maybe. I dunno.
Silence. I had forgotten what silence was like. Don’t get me wrong, I love having my son here. I have silence once he goes to bed.. but it is different when he isn’t here. It just feels empty. Silence. Me, alone, in this big old house. I can only barely remember that I was doing this for a whole year. Me. Alone. In this big old house.
But now I have my son with me. I really love it.
But I had forgotten what deep, empty silence was like.
I’m not scared. Just quiet. Just alone. I hear the dripping of water (damn kitchen faucets) I can hear the clock in the breakfast nook ticking… (and that’s all the way on the other side of the kitchen) and I can hear my own heart beating… or my pulse.. or something like that. I sit here on my living room couch and nothing… just me… Oh! There must be a breeze, because I can ever so slightly hear my wind chimes. (Well, not exactly chimes… those long metal tubes with the deeper voices than “chimes”. I find those high pitched chimes quite annoying..)
Rather a nice evening.
But I was used to it before.. now, it simply does not feel right not having my son here with me…
Silly, aren’t I?