"Wherever you go, go with all your heart." -Confucius
For the next two weeks, I am home alone. Despite being nineteen, my parents have never done this before, perhaps for good reason. One too many teens in my small town have thrown crazy parties as their parents exited for even a day or two. But, mine have found the courage to leave me alone in a 3000 square foot home with a refrigerator full of food, a ski boat in the backyard, gas in my car, and an emergency credit card.
Boy are they brave.
It is now day six of my wild adventure on my own. But, as it turns out, I’m being less wild and becoming more like my parents. I wake up, I water plants, I go for a run, I fix breakfast, I watch the news, I bring in the mail, I do the dishes, I check email, I see if there’s enough laundry for a full load.
The only time I had a friend over was to talk on the porch with a glass of water and watch The Bachelorette. Somehow, at age nineteen, I feel like I’m doing this “home alone” thing all wrong.
Where’s the party? The keg? Why aren’t 100 people on the lawn? You mean the cops haven’t been called yet?
What I’m figuring out is that once I do have time to myself with no interruption, it’s all too easy to slip into a routine of peacefully going about my homey tasks. As much as it’d be nice to have someone to talk to and share a meal, I’ve found I can do this on my own. And as I watch my friends struggle to be single or venture on errands alone, I’m grateful I’ve found this tranquility within myself and the confidence to just be on my own.
Maybe in a week, I’ll feel differently and break some rules by eating a bowl of ice cream on the couch. But, until then, I think I’ll take out the trash and sweep the floor. It’s getting dusty.