Silence like a Crashing Wave

Being single is different. It's messier (less need to keep "us" organized) and I'm often too busy to keep up. It's less regulated (less need to keep "us" on a predictable schedule). It's a good bit more random. Above all, it's quieter.


Some things remain the same. I still work out. (I was never one of those "sweatpants, let it all go because I'm married" wives. I wanted my husband to think I was pretty. Wasn't enough then. Serves my battered self-esteem well now.) I still cook. I still work at the kitchen table. I still obsessively plan for every eventuality.  I still have randomly creative days where I make lots of stuff (decoupage, cookies, whatever the mood brings) and giant messes.

Great Wave off of Kanagawa by Japanese artist Katsushika Hokusai

The weirdest thing is the silence. The lack of laughter and conversation. The morning unbroken by another's getting ready preparations. The absence of music. The strange middle-of-the-night clangs unmuted by another's sleep. The silence rolling through the house in waves of aloneness.

I've always been comfortable with myself. Able to be alone for long periods of time. Easily entertained by movies, books, pretty paper, a few flowers, a bit of watercolor, my own thoughts. Immersed in music. Dabbling in the garden. Drawn to random tangents and flights of fancy. Being uncomfortable with silence is new. I guess as you settle within the depths of silence, you become more comfortable. At least I hope so.

Take-away: Learn not to be afraid of the stillness. You might be surprised at what you hear.