I am on my own for a week whilst Jon is in America on a conference. I wrote recently about what ‘home’ means. It feels something different this week. I am not working at the moment, I have a routine which is punctuated by Jon’s rhythms- getting up, making tea, leaving, maybe we meet up, cooking eating, watching something together at 9pm, bed.
While he is not here, I feel slightly disembodied with the amount of time and space I can inhabit. His rhythms are gone, so I don’t have to get up or be awake at 6.30am, (today I am still in bed at 12.30pm) I am cut loose, free.
It feels odd, I have my own repetitive embodied experiences that I do when he is around, wake up check my IG account, Facebook and email, see Krysten for art Tuesday, skype my Oxford friends on Wednesday, am voluntary Receptionist wed pm.
I have done all those things this week but the time is muddled, I have been making art, had my hair cut, been out for coffee, but it feels like it is different, quieter, I am happy in my own skin. I open and shut the shutters, leaving the cushions on the floor, I leave my art equipment out and my crotchet squares can stay put as I leave the pattern to evolve rather than tidy up at 5pm.
I miss the physical contact and the verbal interaction, but I am not bored or lonely. I would hate it if he was away longer and would need to seek out more other regular contact .I think I could easily become a recluse.
One thing I do miss is the intellectual stimuli I got from doing my MA. But that would be there if Jon was around . My friend Deb is working on some pieces for an exhibition based on WW1 artefacts and a poem. She has been posting images and some text this morning which moved me. I made a WW1 kaleidoscope and poppy jewellery but is feels shallow in comparison to her barbed wire hearts
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I think the thing I gain from being on my own is the time to be completely me and it is very quiet at the moment with a ringing in my ears.
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