waking up the first morning when the amazons go away is always so strange and liberating.
this is the first day i've had no kids since last summer. oh no - they were away at new year's.
i get up and then realize there is no real reason to get up and go back to bed.
then i am irritated with myself and get up again and hover around the apartment like a ghost, wondering what to do.
i feel sorry for myself. abandoned. old. tired. poor. cold and achy.
i am lonely.
i am calm.
so serene and self-absorbed. what a luxury. what an incredible, vast space of time and sound to indulge in. all to myself.
i am immersed in joy.
i get going, make beds, wash dishes, put things away with the satisfying certainty that all will stay like this - tidy, organized, clean - until they are back.
then, midway through a task, let's say, pulling out the dead flowers from a vase and re-clipping the live ones and adding fresh water so they will last longer - something i would never have the time or attention to do normally - i am distracted
and i wander over to the newspaper and read a few articles
or i pick up a book that's been lying ignored and potent with ideas under its dust-covered dust cover and read a few paragraphs
then perhaps i make a cup of tea
or sit in my favorite chair and stare into space.
or meditate. (well, i try, but patience is not amongst my strengths.)
the sun gets brighter and starts to splash rainbows on the walls. and it is so quiet. so deliciously and voluptuously quiet.
and i am so happy. like a 4 year-old surveying a collection of jellybeans. counting the colors and the flavors all just waiting to be eaten.
so incredibly greedily grateful for a day that is all mine.