Solitude

I love this time of night: windows are open, the breeze is light, but the streets are quiet. Everyone else in my house is asleep. The three cats are dozing around me. The X-Files is on (volume low) as I am knitting on the hood of a poncho for my little step-granddaughter. I have the most peaceful feeling. Usually at least one other person is up this time of night, so I don't get enough of these kinds of late nights any more. I miss them, and I wonder if that makes me selfish. Is it selfish to prefer the quiet? Or to enjoy solitude? Surely not. I am sure that those who live alone (not by choice) would tell me that if I lived totally alone, I would crave the company and noise of other people. Perhaps. I certainly don't envy a widow, for example; greener grass and knowing what you've got before it's gone. And unlike many women, I enjoy the company of my husband; he is my friend and companion as well as my spouse. Generally speaking, I enjoy the company of my nearly-grown sons, too -- though like most parents there are times they drive me bonkers. I've always felt that contentment comes from within. I spent many, many night like this in the past. My husband going off to bed early before he retired from his job; children in bed early, too. I had long quiet evenings to stitch and read. As the boys got older, they stayed up later, my evenings either got shorter, or I stayed up later (usually the latter). Now even dear hubby stays up later with me -- and that is a nice change from all those years of being awake many hours after he went to bed -- and the boys keep their own weird hours (one is a nightowl like his mother). For whatever reasons, I'm not usually alone at 11:00pm. So, I'm going off to enjoy a couple hours of quiet knitting... sweet dreams, LC