I doubt I shall succeed in writing here, I have not the sense of perfect seclusion which has always been essential to my power of producing anything. ~Nathanial Hawthorne at Brook Farm
The room is quiet. The whole house is quiet. Quiet save for Paul working on his music. Listening and re-listening to some guitar tracks he laid down. It is strange. It is blissful.
You see, Silas took a trip on the big jet plane today. He is on a ten day stint with my parents. Safe, I imagine. Thrilled, I know. He has a day of Disney ahead of him, three days in St. Augustine, at least one work day with my father. He’ll be great.
I miss him already.
Still, Paul and I are in are separate rooms working on our separate creative endeavors. I have that almost “perfect seclusion” that is “essential to my power of producing anything”. (In addition to having Silas away, school is just about out for summer. Only one day left with kids.) I guess I’m a little stoked.
In about an hour, Paul and I are going to relax into an Italian feast. Olives, ciabatta, prosciutto, heirloom tomatoes, fresh mozzarella, steak, arugula, and wine. We haven’t had a dinner like that in at least a year. I think it may have been two years, actually.
But, for the moment, before the dinner, I have this simple, lovely solitude.
So, what to write about now?
I have been wanting to write about, have started writing about, have been thinking of writing about the crippling anxiety that I have been having lately. But, on such an eve of almost infinite space, it doesn’t seem appropriate.
I started a short story based on my experience in a physically abusive relationship. Nix on that too.
So, there seems like nothing to write about except space. This wonderful, passionate space.
What will I do with this space aside from weed the garden, clean the house, and rid the azalea bush in our front yard of the poison ivy that’s choking it?
I can’t seem to conquer the concept that I can do anything. Come and go as I please. Aside from being on a limited income, I am now the master of my own universe.
And, aren’t I always?
That is going to be the prime goal of these ten days, of my newfound freedom. To discover that regardless of obstacles, I am always the master of my universe.
I used to have a Kerouac quote as my screen saver : “and the whole world opened up before me because I had no dreams.”
That is the ticket. To have no dreams right now. No expectations. Just read and read and write and write and exercise a little and weed and spend time with my husband.
I can take back this life that seems to have slipped through my fingers by just living it. Step by wonderful step.
Let’s see what these days produce. And, those after. Let us see.