Yesterday I kayaked down the river behind my house. It was lovely. Tall trees arching over the water, tangles of spring-green bushes, the slow path of the river, solitude. Just the sound of my paddle dipping and dripping on the surface of the water. It was hard to believe I could feel so alone in the middle of NJ.
Yes, it was Mother's Day, and I love being a mother. I loved the greetings upon waking, the pancake breakfast together, time as a family. But solitude is essential to my mental health. That was the hardest part of having a baby and a toddler six years ago -- alone-time was rare when the kids were so dependent, especially when my work and Husband's travels were factored into our days.
Now my kids are older, and I see that they need their solitude as much as I do. Both tend to disappear on their own, either in the house or in the yard. Sally comes home cranky after a long day of school -- she feels better after a snack and some quiet playtime, perhaps drawing a picture or making a craft or finding her way up to her room to play with her stuffed animals. Huckle disappears into the basement to take apart electronics or to pound nails in some construction project. Or he loses himself in a book.
I'm glad my kids and I share a need for solitude. I helps me feel less guilty find joy in quiet Monday mornings, the end of a busy, noisy weekend. And it helps us all relate to each other and respect one another's need for solitude.
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