On Easter afternoon I’m flying to Florence, the city of my heart. Once again I’ll visit favorite churches, museums, and restaurants, all within the framework of wandering about in solitude. All good. My family accepts my solitary trips, knowing that I try to plan around important family events. Usually I’m successful but this time it isn’t working out quite that way. I won’t be home when the grandkids come for a couple of nights during their vacation, nor when my daughter and her husband come for a long weekend. My husband and I are a good team when visitors come, but this time he’ll have to play my position as well as his. He’s fine with this but I’m feeling a tad sad and guilty that I won’t be there for the fun and to fulfill my job in the Camp Fisher kitchen.
These are the kinds of issues that arise for those of us who long for extended periods of solitude. We haven’t denounced the social aspect of our lives, not do we want to. Sometimes it’s impossible to fit everything in. At least to do so with ease and in sync with the rest of the world.
These are the kinds of issues that arise for those of us who long for extended periods of solitude. We haven’t denounced the social aspect of our lives, not do we want to. Sometimes it’s impossible to fit everything in. At least to do so with ease and in sync with the rest of the world.