Silence

It's a beautiful winter's morning. The sky is blue and it is warm, this is like summer in other latitudes, and altitudes of course. It's just faithful Toby and me, I gave him two small bones and he promptly went inside the house to save one for later. I will check under my blanket, just in case.

It is very quiet around here without the children. This is the second weekend that they are away. As a result of the separation, we have entered an alternating weekend schedule to satisfy the "shared parenting" requirement. I must say that growing up I never thought "I want to be an astronaut...and I want to be a part-time mum". I find it strange and painful. Yes, I know I will be fine, I feel positive that we'll all get used to it and I will enjoy the luxury of having kids-free time, but I am not there yet.

This morning I went to my friend's TaiChi class. The setting is beautiful, the group feels warm and welcoming, kindness is in the air. I was present following the movements quietly, trying to not react to the changes in my body as it was waking up for second breakfast, and my back and chest were aching for no particular reason, other than to hold on to what needs to go. TaiChi is like a balanced, harmonious dance to one's own music. Before the class a word is revealed to each person, mine today was "sensitivity", which is just fitting with my mood of tear and laughter in the same sentence; of feeling young and old at the same time.

I am learning to be alone. Growing up in a house full of people was fun and crazy, with always something happening. However, sometimes I felt quite separate from the others, watching all the action from afar without being part of it. Over the years I have attributed this feeling to many things, including the separation from my mother as a baby, and my very own wiring. After knowing children from birth, I would have to say that the latter is the most likely cause.

All my life being alone has been difficult, this time I am faced with the consequences of being true to myself, of wanting a calmer life, a purer life. In a way it signifies appreciating who I am, eliminating the noise that normally would have arised to appease the feeling of emptiness from being alone. This time, I am not alone even if there is no one near me, even if there is silence inside and out.

Tomorrow I will talk, probably a lot when I see people who embrace my being, quite to my surprise. I can only continue on my path, for better (I believe) or for worse, there is no turning back.