Tuesday, July 27, 2010
"If I am lonely
It must be the loneliness...
Of being the one awake
In a house wrapped in sleep."
-From Adrienne Rich's poem, "Song"
The night is still, so still around me. It does not press down around me, it only exists for me and breathes with me. I sit in our very suburban backyard and look into the windows of my own home. Because I am in the dark, and the house is lit from within, I can see clearly the couch and blanket, lampshade, stairwell, plants, and kitchen sink. I can see the little somethings set on shelves, collected over the span of chapters in a life.
I stare at the dining room table for a while. The chairs are askew and empty. The chairs are so empty, compared to the living and eating and talking and aruging and lauging that goes on there every single day.
My backyard holds bright plastic toys bought from garage sales. The moon sets alight the patterns of water stains on the surrounding wood fence. The leaves do not rustle. They are silent, at rest.
I know we will move from this home one day. We look forward to it. But, right now, in this moment, this home is perfect. This home has been cared for, and in return has cared for us. What I see inside those windows is a sum of our past years. And they have, mostly, been good.
I am, in this moment, completely alone with my thoughts. I am only...me. Sitting outside of my home, looking in at the life I lead.
"No need to hurry. No need to sparkle. No need to be anyone but oneself."
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