[4 of 100] Quiet Morning
When Aatish first started working at an office again it was hard for me. I missed the little moments of interaction between us during the day, the ability to go kiss him whenever I felt like it, the sense of companionship that was there even if we were in separate rooms doing our own separate things. I struggled with feeling that it would be hard for us to maintain the intimacy we had built together even if he wasn't here all the time. It was, I think, at least partly a reaction to the struggles we had as a long-distance couple, and partly also simply the two of us learning new rhythms together. It can be hard to let your relationship evolve as life around you changes and morphs.
This morning, though, he left for work and I (as is my wont, given my extreme loathing of mornings) lazed around in bed. I made myself breakfast, put away some dishes, talked to my mother, took out the trash. I have done some work on the wedding, and paid some bills. The house is silent, the sun is shining, I am for once warm enough, and the smell of incense is in my nose. I am loving the solitude of the morning, the slowness of it, the sense of being at peace in my heart and my body. I don't often give myself space for solitude, and I don't usually want it. I grew up in a house always full of people and cats and dogs and the sounds of music playing and that is, to me, normal. This kind of space and quiet, this island of order--this is rare for me, and I am learning to see it as precious.
This morning, though, he left for work and I (as is my wont, given my extreme loathing of mornings) lazed around in bed. I made myself breakfast, put away some dishes, talked to my mother, took out the trash. I have done some work on the wedding, and paid some bills. The house is silent, the sun is shining, I am for once warm enough, and the smell of incense is in my nose. I am loving the solitude of the morning, the slowness of it, the sense of being at peace in my heart and my body. I don't often give myself space for solitude, and I don't usually want it. I grew up in a house always full of people and cats and dogs and the sounds of music playing and that is, to me, normal. This kind of space and quiet, this island of order--this is rare for me, and I am learning to see it as precious.