On my own

It’s the beginning of a Tuesday evening. Dinner is eaten, the dishes are piled up on the counter. Music bursts from the speakers on the shelf, inviting me to join in its happiness. But I am alone. My husband is at college, my family at home in London and here I am. Just me.

I turn off the music and look around. The dishes wait patiently and they can keep waiting. Washing up is not for me tonight. The house is messy, left over from my sister’s visit. It too can wait. I just want to sit here. Listening to the silence. Feeling my aloneness. Existing in my little world. As I sit, images, sounds, feelings come flooding into my mind. My sister’s laughter. The sounds of our voices mingling and clashing as we sang together. The touch of my husband’s kiss on my neck. His voice speaking the Word to me in our devotions. Good things. Perhaps not physically present but they are here in some way.

My soul feeds on memories, my body on crisps and things don’t look so bad after all.

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