Home Alone

I am a homebody. I’d rather be at home than anywhere on the planet. I don’t apologize for this as much as I used to. I have learned that it is okay to want to be at home. My desire to be in my home doesn’t mean that I’m crazy or that there is something wrong with me. It simply means that my own home is my favorite place to be. Period.

I can amuse myself for hours in my kitchen, even though it is not a very nice kitchen. Circa 1964, it has inadequate cabinet space, the layout is inefficient and the whole room needs to be gutted and done over. Nonetheless, I spend countless hours in there preparing food, cleaning and just puttering around. I turn on my iPod and listen to all sorts of music and dance my way around on the usually dirty floor.

I have a room that is all my own. I call it My Thoughtful Spot (you A.A. Milne readers will appreciate that one!). I have all my paper crafting supplies in that room. It is a wonderful place to be creative. I have big plans to remodel it someday. I wonder if I will enjoy as much when it is nicer than a hodgepodge of furniture stuffed into a small space. Some of my favorite books also reside in that room, along with an old computer that has a lot- I’m talking about a whole lot-of music stored on it. The speakers are pretty good, so I can crank that bad boy up and listen for days without repeating a song. It is a nice place to hang out.

I suppose my very favorite room in the whole house is our bedroom. It is the heart of MolliWorld. We have a brand spanking new LCD television in our room that I got Ed for his birthday. Our clothes are in there. A beautiful watercolor of the park where I played as a child is on the wall. The décor isn’t all that nice and it is in desperate need of some new paint. The carpet is also circa 1964 and it really does need to go. The furniture was my grandparents' and it is showing its age. Doesn’t sound like the heart of anything other than a mess now that I think of it.

To me, though, it glows. It is the room where we spent our wedding night, (with the children in the next room). It is the nest where our days start, often with laughter and always with me wrapped up in the arms of my dearest love. It is where we whisper of our fears, frustrations and where we dare to put words to our dreams. It is the safest of havens to me. It is where we pray for guidance and wisdom. It is a place of intimacy, as it ought to be. I often feel that I spend my days like a salmon swimming upstream to get back to that wonderful place. Back to our room. Back to the arms of my Prince. Back to the heart of MolliWorld.

Except tonight. And tomorrow night. And probably a few more nights after that. I’ll be sleeping and changing clothes only in that room. The Rocket Man has left the city limits and is headed to do his Rocket Work at a different Rocket Location. On the one hand, that means I am without Adult Supervision (insert wink and sly grin!). On the other hand, it means that I don’t really want to go home. And when I do go home, I don’t want to go to our bedroom. I feel somehow displaced and like something is missing. Which is exactly true. My heart is missing. You see, my heart and my home are wherever Ed is, and right now…that is far, far away.

I'm being good. I have put on my big girl panties. I’m making the best of it. I’m soldiering on. I want him to know that I miss him, without making him feel any worse about being gone. The Prince's job occasionally takes him away. That is just part of the bargain. Most of the time, I'm okay with that. But we have been quite busy lately and this time, I just wish he didn't have to go. For the next few days, I don't want to...but I’m doing my best impression of cleverly masquerading as a responsible adult....