Morning breaks quietly open with soft light drifting in through the barely there hum of traffic outside. Muted sounds from the tv fall down the stairs to where I sit in the peaceful kitchen. A laugh, then a small cough break the tranquility. It is a good sound... a sound that makes me smile... so different from the gurgling hacking croup that made me worry through the night. (Maybe that's the reason for last night's insomnia....)
When the flu comes, it brings full baggage and decides to stay for a while. Not usually with me, though. Thankfully, I can shake most of it off and just treat some symptoms; this is good because then I can take better care of the little flu monster. Not that it makes him a monster. Actually two days of laryngitis send him on the opposite end of the spectrum. I know what it's like to have a quiet child... if only for two days.
And then the flu is kicked, and we carry on, heading back to "normal".
It's quieter now; the tranquility continues undisturbed. I sit here, my empty teacup beside me and the table littered with the flotsam of childhood: paper scraps, colored pencils, figurines, a deck of disney cards. Not to mention the cars and trucks and legos on the floor.... Chaos of a disordered house surround me (even though I just. cleaned. yesterday.) and it's okay. Somehow, it's a reminder that a healthy curious infinitely energetic little HU-man (as he calls people lately) lives here.
The aloneness doesn't live here. Aloneness is meant for heavy moments, late-night disquietude. Aloneness camps inside for a while, then -- when its purpose is done -- moves on. It always has a purpose. (Nothing in life is without its purpose, even if it can't be seen.) Nervous thoughts of what will be left when the aloneness departs fade away into the hazy morning sun. Aloneness only leaves when there is something there to take its place. One is never left empty... that's why aloneness exists: to remind us to get ready for something more, to spur us on to reach for what is next, to open our arms and hearts and welcome what is to come. It prepares us. We listen, we ready ourselves, we wait. Oh, how we wait!
And then it comes. We rarely can predict the outcome of the cleverly scripted moment the universe sends. I can prepare, but it always catches me by surprise. Unexpected: a presumably portentous word. The unexpected is always stressful. It is often exciting. But it is never empty.
And we are never alone without purpose.
(Breathe, just breathe...)
Oh no! You do know that the flu is one of my greatest worries? So glad you are all on your way back to normal - well, normal for you, anyway! "The unexpected is always stressful. It is often exciting. But it is never empty." So true! So very, very true!
ReplyDeleteHope you're fully better soon - and you're a great writer!
ReplyDeleteSunshine xx
I'm rarely alone, but I often feel lonely. Alone-ness isn't so bad, in fact I rather enjoy it, but I pretty much hate loneliness.
ReplyDeleteYour alone posts have definitely hit a note with me.
I like aloneness to recharge. Especially since I had kids. Those moments are priceless.
ReplyDeleteI spend a lot of time alone. I like it. I get annoyed pretty quickly when I am around other people (other than my family). But sometimes it can get lonely. Glad you are not feeling overwhelmed by aloneness and feel it has a purpose :).
ReplyDelete"One is never left empty... that's why aloneness exists: to remind us to get ready for something more, to spur us on to reach for what is next, to open our arms and hearts and welcome what is to come."
ReplyDeleteI love this line...
Wendy
Ugh, NOT the flu. NOT when you need someone to give you a hand!
ReplyDeleteI love the image of getting ready for more.