As I sit here tonight going through pictures of Tate, ‘checking’ Facebook, deleting some emails, I am overwhelmed by the quiet of my home. Tate has been in bed since 7, and Vincent is still not pleased with me over his visit to the vet yesterday. I looked around and just became insidiously aware of my aloneness. Every. Single. Night. Once Tate is asleep I do have a myriad of things to accomplish before I can rest and just be. I have to clean up the dirty dinner dishes, clean out his lunch bag and backpack and put all those items into the dishwasher or clean them. There’s always laundry to be done, picking up after Tate (and the cat), dishwasher to be emptied, bills to pay and showers to take. But it’s all done alone.
No one to share the details of my day with. No one to say ‘Should we watch television or just hang out?” No one to ask ‘Can I lend you a hand?’ No one to say ‘You’re doing a great job.’ No one to ask how I’m feeling. No one to massage my tired feet. No one to enjoy my meal with if I didn’t get my act together to eat with Tate. No one to just sit there and be a witness to my life.
The phone doesn’t normally ring after 7:30pm as most of my friends have families with children and husbands. Homework is being done, baths are being taken, swim lessons and soccer practice are running late, so dinner will be late. And once their kids are in bed, they’re doing much of the same things I’ve been doing only there is someone there to share it with. Now I’m patently aware that many or some partners don’t do their fair share of sharing, but I’m not referring to ‘chores.’ I’m referring to just sharing a life with someone…the mundane, everyday nuances of living. I think I miss that. Tonight the quiet is deafening. Tonight I’m lonely. And I know this feeling may be that I just had a houseguest for 10 days, so his presence is definitely missed. But for whatever reason, tonight I’m lonely.
This single life is hard sometimes. I think I thought having another person in this house ,albeit a child, would make the loneliness seem less intrusive, and it definitely does. Yet though Tate’s laughter, joy and embracement of life fill up every single corner of this house, I’m still lonely sometimes when he’s awake. I love watching him live his life, and I wish many a time there was someone else who could sit here with me and witness his life. I know he won’t remember these days, and now I’m charged with remembering it for him. Me. Just me.
Being single can be hard. And tonight it’s been exceptionally tough. So, I shall go off to bed in the room I share with my precious boy, run my hand down his little back to feel his sweet tummy breathe in and out as I always do, press a kiss to his head and climb into bed. Alone. Maybe he’ll wake up tonight and want a cuddle. Wouldn’t that be nice? My soft sweet baby all tucked up under me. That will make being single and alone in the bed completely worth it.