In my head, I’ve started this post a hundred times. I’ve thought of things I want to include, things that have happened that pertain to exactly what I want to write about but I just can’t formulate anything. It’s always surprising to me how I can put words to some things so easily and others, it’s so much more difficult.
In less than a week, my sister and nephew will be here to stay for a couple weeks. As usual, I cannot wait. And as usual, I look forward to the feeling of a fuller house. Through my years of living alone, I’ve realized a few things. I’m good at it, I enjoy it, I even take advantage of it. But one thing is for sure, I’m not made for it. I have Full House Syndrome.
Last weekend, on my trip, I realized this again. My friends and I rented a house for the trip and though it wasn’t mine and it was all temporary, the feeling I get when sharing living space with people is one that I truly enjoy. It fulfills me in a way that nothing else can. Though my alone time will always be important, no amount of solitude, quiet, or communing with silence will replace the reassurance I get, the peace I feel, when I’m coexisting with others. The feeling of cooking in the kitchen as you overhear someone in the other room is a kind of calm I don’t have words to describe. Just the knowledge of their presence is enough for me. It’s a whole, nurturing feeling. One of relaxation, comfort and home.
It’s taken me a while to get here. Since I stopped living with roommates, six months out of college, I was bound and determined to make the most of my solo venture. “I will hang a photo on whatever wall I please!” (And I did.) “I will leave my shoes by the door!” (And I do.) “I will leave dirty dishes in the sink whenever I want!” (Yeah, right, not going to happen.) Because that’s what I thought independence was all about. I thought it was about doing what I want, when I wanted, for whatever amount of time I wanted and damn it if I wasn’t going to enjoy it.
Well, I have enjoyed it. I realize the importance of being alone, of making all your decisions and knowing they generally only affect you. There is no replacement for the knowledge I’ve gained and the growth I’ve accomplished (and will continue to accomplish) on my own. But it’s not completely me. It’s not all of my make-up, not my entire person. No matter how many nails I hammer into the wall on my own, there’s always that part of me that will want others near by. I can’t imagine feeling life completely any other way.
That sense of another’s presence, of their laugh on the phone, even if they’re talking to someone else. That sound of lives, intertwined. I know it’s not a perfect world, I know there are hard times, times you might wish there was silence. But when you finally get that quiet, and have spent enough time in that perspective, you realize that it’s not where you thrive. It’s not what recharges you. So in the meantime, until you get that full house of your very own, you learn to get by on temporary fixes. Friends, sisters, nephews, and whatever else you can get will see you through. It has to, it’s how you’re made.
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