Home Alone

I love my family and I also love my solitude. Right now,  Laurinda is at work, Makiya and Gerry are at the gym, and I’m home alone with the dogs. I danced a little jig when the last one was out the door. The dryer is running and, save for the tap-tapping of my fingers on the keyboard of my MacBook, it’s the only sound in the house. Hang on a sec . . .

There. I just switched it off and sweet, sweet silence reigns.

What to say about another day when it’s cooler than normal for this time of year? Blech. It’s gray and cold and breezy and definitely not the kind of day that invites me to go outside and dig in the dirt. Instead, I’ve been in the house painting and puttering and working on my piece for Saturday’s writing group. All good things, of course, but I’d rather be spending more time out in the gardens and in the backyard. Soon, I keep telling myself. Soon.

Meanwhile, there’s green in the gardens in the form of lettuce, spinach, onion, beet, and radish sprouts. The grass seed Gerry spread where the little backyard  garden used to be is growing (and feeding the white crested sparrows—grrr—but they’ll move on soon and he can reseed). Sweet peas are poking up in pots on the back deck.

And, maybe best of all in this moment, I’m home alone. I’m off to bask in the silence.


I’m a writer, reader, and creative. I thought by now I’d have things figured out, but I keep coming up with more questions. I think that’s okay. I’m here most mornings pondering ordinary things.

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