Fo the first time in many many many years I am savoring the joys of solitude. The getting acclimated to a new place is accomplished, one or two household crises have inured me to the shrieks of my landlady's brother (and proved easy enough to head off). I finally feel like this little brick house is mine, for the moment. It is a very quiet house and when it snows all night the effect is magical. Like I'm in a castle. The silence is, when you are ready for it, delectable. I never thought I could be alone for very long before--grew up taking care of four siblings, a neurasthenic mother, and coping with an angry, bitter and absent dipsoholic father. Yes, I loved them all very much. Which is why I drove myself a little crazy. In those days being alone meant someone was in troubler and/or I had no one to help me.
All of it seems to have paid off. While not liking it at first, looking out of the picture window at the snow on the third day of a heavy snowfall became a little less strange, a little more comforting.I can even cook for myself now, something I haven't allowed myself to do for 30 years. I am discovering, to my astonishment and great joy, that one can delight in one's own and God's silent presence.
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