I realized today that I've never lived alone. I lived with my parents and brother until I went to college. I had between one and four roommates every year at school. I got married during college (child bride, LOL!). We have two children.
I knew at an early age that I like to be surrounded by people. It was more fun to have lots of kids on the swingset or in our small pool. I was constantly asking my best friend, Beth, "Can we have Sami play, too? Is Jeannette home?" I think Beth was content with just the two of us to have a dance party or play with our Barbies, but I loved having a big group of friends over.
In college, I had a hard time studying by myself. I would find myself leaving the door open if my roommate left for the weekend so people on the floor would stop by. I studied in the library or in the common room. Again, the more the merrier!
This year (at the ripe old age of 43), I've figured out that there is some peace of mind found when I am by myself. I'm finally comfortable with alone time. I'm choosing more often than not to have lunch in my classroom with a book or my Twitter feed. I'm enjoying quiet evenings when my girls are at their activities or out with friends. I don't mind that my husband is traveling.
I'm beginning to relish the quiet. I can calm my mind and think through what needs to be done. I can reflect on my day. I can make decisions for the week. Reading and knitting can be done without distractions.
I almost had a solo night at home recently. The girls were off to their respective friends' houses, with the possibilities for sleepovers. My husband had left town. I would be alone in the creaky house (with the parakeet for company). I was excited, I was bummed.
Then my phone chimed with a text message. "Can my friends stay over at our house?"
Alone time canceled. Maybe next time!