I haven’t allowed myself to yearn. It wouldn’t do any good or make time pass more quickly to indulge in longing. So I tell myself this living situation is only temporary, and then I tuck away any further thoughts of returning home; I go about the business of keeping the family routines going, and staying busy helps to keep the yearning from creeping in. But now we have only one week to go, and I am giving in. I yearn to return to the house we have been away from for six months, although to be honest it doesn’t at all resemble the place we left. It is beautiful. But what I long for isn’t so much the lovely surroundings as it is the solitude. I want to find a quiet space and close the door behind me.
Returning to the house will also mean unpacking the boxes we stacked high in the garage a half a year ago. I barely remember what I so carefully packed away, but I do know it is all stuff we can easily live without. Living with about one drawer full of clothing and a few books these past six months has been fine. In fact, having all of the belongings that normally clutter the house packed away has been liberating. I haven’t had to play the role I so dislike, that of Manager of Stuff. Now I fear that with our return home I will slip back into the role of endless sorting, straightening, picking up and getting rid of possessions when we return to normal. Bleh. I long to have peace and quiet; the stuff can stay in boxes a while longer.
the pale gray