Michele and I have been together since Valentine’s Day 1997. In the intervening seven years we’ve only been apart two nights. And I can count on the fingers of both hands the number of times I’ve been home alone.
It’s funny, when you are single you never really think about being home alone. Sure, you are aware that you live alone, and that there are sometimes lengthy periods of time where you are the only person there in your home. Still, it isn’t something you appreciate until you haven’t had it for a while.
This morning Michele is off taking an employment examination for the State of Illinois. She’ll be gone for several hours. The house is all mine. For the first time in over three years I am home alone. I can do what ever I want. Mind you, I can do what ever I want when she is home, but this is somehow different.
No, I didn’t dance across the living room like Paul on “Mad About You” when Jamie was away for the weekend. And I didn’t fall apart like him either. But I did enjoy the sense of adulthood that comes from being at home alone when you know your loved one will be returning soon. And the anticipation of the sweetness the reunion will bring with it.