I woke up this morning, this Sunday morning, to winter sunshine and soft realization. In those first moments of this new day, I realized that I do not like to be alone. I like to be with Husband and the girls and my family and my friends. I like to sit in coffee shops with strangers. I like to be plugged into a world of conversation. I like noise and people and chaos.
I have never eaten dinner alone in a restaurant. I have never gone on vacation alone. I have never gone to a movie all by myself. I crave company. Chatter. Companionship.
And yet. Even when I am surrounded, in a thicket of life and laughter, I often feel alone. Very alone. This odd solitude engulfs me when I least expect it, taking me away into my own little world. This also happens at predictable times. On Sundays. On Sundays, I am lined with a filmy of kind melancholy. I feel distant and pensive. I feel nostalgic for childhood donuts and simpler times. I recall the dread of anticipating a new week of school or work. Sundays are for me damper days. Less silly, less spirited, less shiny.
But Sundays are also sweet. Yes, I am realizing that solitude can be sweet. That fog can be humbling. That gray can be cozy.
On Sundays, I am a bit smaller. I cuddle my man. I need my girls. I curl up on the couch. Surrounded and alone. A wise friend once told me that that there are flavors of loneliness. And I am realizing that some flavors are not so bad.
When do you feel most alone? Do you enjoy silence and solitude? Do you like Sundays? What is the difference between loneliness and solitude?