Home Alone

I started my morning as usual, spending about an hour and a half at the gym and returned to a quiet apartment.  There was no one home strumming on his guitar in the sunroom because my husband started work today at the Biltmore!  

While I sit gazing out the window at a sunny beautiful fall morning, I realize that this is the first time I have ever felt alone since moving to this area last spring.  My husband and I have pretty much been in each other’s sphere of existence nonstop since we arrived.  What a great blessing it is to cohabitate so harmoniously with another and feel such a sense of peace between us!

Although he was always home when I was here, I never felt as if Augustus were cramping my style.  His presence never felt burdensome or annoying.  I was grateful because I often had questions throughout the day for which he always had the right answers to.  “Do you know where my… is?”  He has a memory like an elephant's and it is usually big enough for both of us. 

Up until this moment our pattern had been united because he wasn’t working and we were both home a lot.  We developed a routine that is unlike any I have ever experienced before, because it is filled with lots of freedom.  For example, I begin most mornings at the gym while he often gravitated to his guitar.  My husband would put on his headphones, which removed him from this world as he played into his own world….

Now there is something new percolating.  Will I be okay without him here in the apartment?  The complex’s gym is a short walk away, but it’s not like I can easily hop on a bus or a subway here in Asheville to go get a manicure.  I am little insecure that my independence will be impacted.

Our one routine is now becoming two separate ones.  Monday through Friday, my husband will head to an office and I will continue to head to the gym.  As these new routines are being born, there will be more uncertainty as to what I will do afterwards, because my driver will no longer be waiting at home. 

I will not have a strong man around who can unscrew my Bella Cucina Blender from its base whenever something goes wrong while making a Green Monster Smoothie for breakfast.  No more last minute jaunts to Ingles grocery store to pick up that forgotten ingredient for a new crockpot recipe.  And where did I leave that damn Blue Sky water bottle again?  

It is funny really, but whether my husband is around to point me in the right direction or not, I always eventually find my iPhone.  Exactly where I left it.

Huh.  There isn't a TV playing in the background anymore.  

I am encouraged that on this morning I sit in my prayer chair and write this without the distraction of someone else in the room.  I am feeling a renewed sense of enthusiasm and motivation to write the memoir that is within me.

At yesterday’s TBI support group I mentioned that I have a small concern about not having my driver at home.  My friend Chris sent a text afterwards saying that he and his girlfriend bought a little run around car since they’ll both be working.  He offered to give me a lift if I ever needed a ride, as long as they’re not working.  This is an example of how we survivors often take care of each other whenever a need is expressed…