It has not been very often these days when I am home alone. We almost always have each other around the house. And though we both enjoy together-alone “me time”, it’s rare that I have evenings all to myself without you being here.
I look at the faint traces of sunlight on the bare blank wall we’ve been promising to decorate with my paintings. It creates patterns of the leaves from the plants outside the window. I felt a little weird, a little empty, a little excited, a little sulky, but above all, a strong sense of space within me and around me, physically and emotionally. It reminds me of my single days, free and wild and spontanious, and of course a little younger. With nostalgia and melancholy, I look back on them and sigh, and tell myself it’s ok. There are a lot of things to do. I gotta enjoy these precious moments dedicated for myself and myself only.
I have my tea ceremony as usual, and meditation and yoga. I finally succeed the headstand pose! I have dinner and wash and paint, as always, but all alone. I watched “In this corner of the world” too and it’s so cute I wanna grab your hand and make you watch this scene and that to show you how much Suzu resembles me. But you’re not around to see it. The house suddenly seems so big. Has it always like this yet I’ve failed to notice? I light up a candle and pour a few drops of Lavender and Bitter Orange on the oil diffuser to fill up the space. The clock is ticking. I’m glad you’re having a good time but at the same time I wished you were here. Just the sight of you will make me feel safe and secure.