A Note From the Present

Here it is, August 29. The end of summer is inevitably nigh. (yes, Laura, archaic word, is it not?). The sun sets sooner, the nights are cooler and yesterday morning I could see my breath! And there are still things I want to tell you about from the summer but soon, it will be everlastingly too late and unseasonal. But today, I have a note from the present.

I have never lived alone. Its true. I left my family of 12 (pre-twins when it would be come a family of 14) just 11 days after the 10th child was born to live with my dad's cousin's family of 8 while I went to University at BYU. I left BYU to get married. Although that only lasted 3 years, by the time I was 22 and I had a 1 year old. And that was that. The window for living alone for me had passed until the other end of my life. And because I homeschool my children and we run our own business from home, I am alone very infrequently.

Although I am an extrovert and I enjoy being around people and being busy, this is such a constant in my life that being alone is truly golden to me. This weekend, Dean is playing in Revelstoke and Rhiannon had a sleepover birthday party. Although Drew did find his way home to sleep sometime in the night, my evening was spent totally alone.

So what did I do? I cleaned the kitchen. It was Saturday Night and I cleaned the kitchen which had been in a state of disarray since Sarah, Kyle, Adriel and Sloan ate breakfast there... on Thursday morning. The frying pans from the baked apple pancakes were still on the table on hotplates although there was no danger of burning the table.... As I organized everything, the mound beside the sink grew to momentous proportions. I played Fleetwood Mac music that I have downloaded to my ipod and deleted stuff I didn't like (almost everything pre-Lindsay Buckingham), fed all the animals and got them all tucked in for the night. Then I heated up some falafel and made myself a wrap with tziki that Eryn and I made and fresh tomatoes and cucumber from the garden. I took it along with some cherry tomatoes upstairs and watched "The Soloist" which I hadn't seen before. And then I went to bed and read a little of Mitch Album's latest book, "Have a Little Faith" and went to sleep with ear plugs in so I couldn't hear the stupid dogs from next door.

When I am alone like that, I find it so peaceful and I am able to really be right in the moment and be aware of the moment at the same time. Like when I am walking back from the coop, I like the effect of my music spilling out onto the porch and into the evening - my happiness, my quiet joy. I notice the light as the sun sets. And when there is no music playing, I notice the stillness around me. Like right now. I have 2 1/2 hours left of my own time before I go and get Rhiannon...