Wednesday morning was another quiet, drippy morning. I headed over to the garden just shortly after it opened – this time alone. I’m not sure I can remember the last time I went to the garden by myself. I’ve done it at least a handful of times, but it’s been years since the last time. I didn’t have anywhere to be until nine, and so I wandered around the place. Occasionally I saw another person – mostly gardeners – but for the most part it was just me.
I think I’ve needed a few moments like this more than I realized. It’s not that I don’t get time to myself when the girls are here and when we’re busy doing a dozen different things. I think we’re really good at carving out that time alone. But it’s different still – there’s an undercurrent of rushing there, no matter how much I try to ignore it. I’m alone when I run, but I still know there’s a time limit – that there is dinner to make and children to bathe and homework to check.
Yesterday was different. I still had to work, but the day was still mostly in my control, and I could fill the hours the way that I wanted to. I came home and planted some flowers, looked for a vacation rental, ate a small dinner, and then went to a late night yoga class. It felt a little like a spa retreat – you know, minus the whole working in the middle thing.
Still, it was a little lonely. M and I have been enjoying the week – meeting up for dinner and drinks, working on projects together, sleeping in, talking in leisurely ways without interruption. It’s nice, really, really nice. But yesterday we did our own thing, and didn’t reconnect until late. And we both miss the girls.
I think it’s really important to have this time to recharge. I needed the space to finish the book I was reading. We’ve been slowly, thoroughly cleaning and clearing the house after a busy school year. Changing light bulbs, switching out sheets, reversing the fan directions, airing things out. We’ve been eating out at places the girls wouldn’t enjoy, there is no babysitter to arrange and pay, the house is quiet when we leave and when we return. We can be ourselves, but a little bit different too, if that makes any sense.
This time next week I’ll have pictures of the garden with two girls in them. We’ll be on summer time, back together again. The house will be messier and louder. I’ll cook more, and get less sleep.
It will be wonderful.