I’m Still Here

Thursday. 7.20pm.

I’ve just filled my wine glass & sighed happily as I close the curtain on my particularly clean kitchen. Fairy lights & scented candles soften the room and I can hear the fireplace crackle through the stillness of this room. That is before the whirring laptop fan kicks in & the screen lights up. I can hear myself think; and I am miraculously thinking nothing.

My Mr has gone out for the evening. My sweet 16 month old 16 week old – who has being toying with sleep regression for a week or so – fell asleep contentedly, independently, and quietly while I finished cooking dinner.
Have I entered another dimension? I can’t remember the last time I was alone in this type of blissful silence. Sometimes (read 3 am) I sit up ‘alone’ in bed while my husband stirs and my baby snores – or my husband snores and my baby stirs. This is different. Very different.

What is the core of the curious rebellious joy I feel, as I sit down wondering to myself what I’d like to do this evening? I’m not going to go through Elliot’s clothes & sort out what he’s grown out of (everything). I’m not going to put away laundry. I’m not even going to fuss about what image to put in this blog post. I’m going to click publish & switch off all screens and get stuck into my Parisienne Adult Colouring book.
For as long (or short) as this moment may last, right now, nobody needs me.

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