Shhhh. It’s a secret. I am spending an hour, an entire hour, alone. I’m alone in the blessed quiet of locked doors where no other voices spit or sputter or shout. No phones are ringing. No one needs a ride anywhere. Just me and my book. And the quiet.
Please don’t tell on me. I feel guilty as it is. It’s past six o’clock and I could have left for home an hour ago. I’m slowly savoring praline carmel ice cream so sweet it hurts my teeth. The light is soft and not a soul is here.
Okay, I’m eating a praline McFlurry in the lobby of my office.
But with my eyes closed it almost feels like a screened porch somewhere in glorious southern autumn near a large pond and rolling hills. Almost.
Don’t get me wrong. I love my home. And my family. It’s just that there’s been injury and surgery, caregiving and so much driving. There's been travel and packing and unpacking, un-medicated people who need their meds, bills bills bills, and dogs. So many dogs.
Okay, two dogs, but one won’t potty train and the other is shredding garbage can contents as we speak.
I know it sounds crazy, but if you were here…inside my head, you’d totally get it!
I’m going home in a few more minutes. I swear I am. Just gonna finish
my ice cream and read a chapter in my novel and then I’ll *sigh* head out.