It has been 4 days since my husband left for Austin and blues camp. It will be 3 more days before he comes home and I have to give back the remote. What is bizarre is I have hardly used the remote. I've watched one movie (the second National Treasure) in his absence and the rest of the time the house has been quiet...still...peaceful...no tv going 18 hours a day fabulous.
I have the kind of family that always has background noise going - and admit that I used to be one of them. Somewhere along the line, during the years of childhood chaos, I began to yearn for the absolute calm of being alone in my own house with no auditory stimulation (we aren't counting the cats who occasionally rise up out of a sound sleep, chase each all over the house and go back to sleep).
I try really hard to sound bereft when my husband calls, but have to admit to loving the freedom to live on my schedule or no schedule if I choose. I just spent the evening drinking wine and eating pizza with two good friends and didn't worry about the time. I eat a sandwich for dinner and call it good. I stay up and read in bed until 3 AM and sleep in until 10 AM (or would if the cats didn't insist on breakfast).
And yet, the longer the week goes on, the more I miss the laughter, small talk and companionship of living with someone who knows me better than anyone else. I turn to say, "Do you remember..." and Pippin says meow. It just isn't the same. By Friday morning I will be looking for a familiar car to pull in to the driveway, ready to hear all about "this one time - at band camp" . The tv will flip on, baseball will once again be the mainstay of evening viewing and the brief vacation from reality will end. Sounds like a good way to end the week to me.