Today is my almost-last day of vacation. Yesterday H and I went to the Fair with friends (pictures soon) and while I had considered going again today, on my own, to sketch -- I was out for the morning, it was 2pm when I returned and by the time I got out there the guys would be on their way home. Guilt set in. Maybe I'll find an afternoon to sneak away next week. So I'm home. Laundry is drying, dishes are soaking, and I'll have to spend time in the office tomorrow to prepare for some obligations due Sunday. Tomorrow is our wedding anniversary -- 12 years, or 13, I forget which. So I'll take R to dinner for sushi. I hope we have a nice time.
The afternoon is cool and damp and sunny. Breezy. It's quiet here, a luxury I enjoy richly. I spent three hours with Georgette this morning, talking about life and work and family, death and spirituality, Native Americans and many other topics it seems. (Now the phone is ringing. It's D. He wants answers, I'm sure. Work questions, work issues. His last day is Sunday, and he's preaching. I'm not ready for that right now though.) Georgette has as usual provided an important space in my day, my week, in which to be thinking and talking about everything that matters most. Georgette is my guru, though she probably wouldn't tolerate that characterization. She is, after all, also a normal human being. But older and wiser than I.
Tick tick tick. R called at 3pm to say they'd be on their way shortly. And to ask if I had done the dishes, as though I were a recalcitrant teenager. He's always bugged by my annual week at home -- even though he gets just such a week in early August to himself, during which I do not plague him with chore lists. (The phone is ringing again. This time it's CW, who probably has church questions of her own. Still not ready folks, sorry.)
Heard a car door slam, finished the dishes. Now he can just stick a cork in it!
I can hear cicadas in the trees. Construction noises down the block, birds, kids in yards. R will come home and aggressively assert dominion over the rest of the day. Not that they aren't entitled, but I resent it a little bit just now, because it's the last moment now of the last day before we resume normal scheduling. And whatever else I may be in the minds of those who see me and depend on me, I'm also someone who requires a lot more quiet and privacy than I get. I'm an introvert, really, and I can't always confine all my creativity to the hours of darkness between my child's bedtime and exhaustion. A time my husband wants a piece of from me as well, and again he's entitled. But it's been a good week, though it's gone by quickly. Good for me.
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