I remember so clearly and so vividly the first time I realized how much I love solitude. It was 1990 and I was finishing up the summer as a nanny on the Cape. Some girlfriends had bailed on our plans to go to a movie and I decided to go any way. Walking to my car after the movie, feeling the warm ocean air on my face and enjoying the stillness of the night, I thought, “This is amazing.” At that point I realized just how restorative and necessary solitude is to my well-being.
Flash forward 16 years, one marriage and one child later, and solitude was a lot harder to come by. On a rare morning when I had a late start, Jim took our son to drop him off at day care. Still in my robe after my shower, I laid back and enjoyed the absolute absence of noise. It rushed in, and though I only had 15 minutes before I had to get ready, it was enough time for me to realize just how much I had been missing my solitude.
That has been the most challenging part of motherhood for me, as a writer and a woman. I love my kids—I just don’t always love the endless noise, at all hours and all decibels that come with them.
Silence and solitude nourish my creative soul. It’s as vital to me as air and food and water. Thankfully I have a husband who understands this, and frequently affords me mini-getaways and alone time to restore what the noise chips away at. But after a seemingly endless winter and the endless sick days, snow days and half days that have come with it, I’m feeling overdue.
So, Honey, if you’re reading this, it’s not too late. Valentine’s Day isn’t quite over yet. You know what to get me, and it won’t cost you a cent.
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