With house quiet again, maybe I need to think about finding some ‘Golden Girls’
My house feels strangely empty now that my cousin Theresa and her wife, Janet, have moved out and into their own house.
We had fallen into an easy routine, the three of us and my son Sawyer, juggling showering schedules and chores. We ate Popsicles. I learned not to talk during Seattle Seahawks games.
Theresa fixed the sprinklers. Janet took care of me when I had shingles.
It was a benefit of having a full house, four people instead of two sharing the workload.
It felt good to get back in my bed, more comfortable than the daybed I’d slept on in the library for three months. No one was in my spot on the couch (except the dog, and he shoos easily). But I miss them.
It’s not just that Janet made dinner or Theresa mowed the yard. Theresa still mows my yard. The other day, she brought a tinfoil-covered plate of lasagna from Janet.
We see them often, but there was something about a full house that felt, well, full. The choruses of “good morning” and “good night.” The smell of coffee before I got out of bed. Someone always around to vent to.
Sawyer is here, but he’s busy with college classes and friends.
I like solitude, the peace of it, of not having to check in with anyone.
But I realized that some of the joy I get in having the house to myself at times is that it is a treat. I wonder if, when Sawyer graduates and moves out,
I’ll miss the mood and movement of another person in the house.
Maybe when I’m on my own, I’ll get roommates, like on the “Golden Girls,” where four women shared a house. Blanche was about my age now when they moved in together.
I’d have ready companions for spontaneous outings or binge-watching TV, and we’d talk things out over late-night cheesecake.