Last night I sat on the porch, sipped a glass of wine, and watched the storm come in. It was dark, so most of my view was of the porch railing and occasional silhouettes of trees against a blitzed sky, and later there was the beaded curtain of rain that sliced between me and the outside world. M came and sat with me and we complained about our days, in that very married way that lets the other know how content you are. And I am content. My boys are, every one of them, in school for most of their waking hours and it has released me in a way I didn’t expect. I’ve only filled those spare hours with working, so it’s not as if I’m drinking at noon, shopping til I drop, or getting my hair done daily. No, there’s no extra time, but there is extra space in my head. I am no longer quite as attendant on their needs, their schedules, their weaknesses and strengths.
I had a dream last night about a library. I know, the dreams of others are tedious and dull, but this was a library of experiences and it was charming, and if I remembered anything else about it I’d bore you to bits and you’d be willing. But I don’t remember, except that I felt surrounded by possibility, and it was nice. Not scary, not exhausting, and there were no pointers toward failure mixed in with teasers about success.
My life hasn’t changed all that much but maybe my outlook has and maybe that’s huge.