Today I have been by myself, except for the dog. The husband took the children away and will stay away all night, and all day tomorrow. He does this for me when it is time for me to be alone.
So I have been quiet today, not moving too much, not thinking too much. I looked out the window for a long time. I took the dog for a walk. I baked a cookie when I was hungry. I made tea.
And tonight, as the sky began to darken, I decided to let the night come. Instead of turning on lights, I have just let the darkness fall inside and out. I have a candle beside me, the computer monitor glows...but everything else has become dark. Shade by shade.
I like the idea of living that way every day. Opening my eyes when the morning comes, closing them when the sun goes down. And in between, when the heat makes the air thick and wet -- slowing and stopping, until the evening breeze blows it away.
I wonder how long it would take for my body to adjust. Most likely quicker than my mind. Even now I am writing because of an artificial assistant. Could I live with the quiet instead of trying to mute it with noise...and accept the gift of darkness instead of hiding it with light?
I wonder if I lived this way, how different I would be.
