My Own Room

Sleeping in the basement while my husband isolates and recovers from Covid feels quiet. Secretive.

I am so far away from the bedrooms of the boys that I know each sound I hear does not belong to them. I also know that I am too far away to be of any assistance.

I stay up late reading because my reading no longer disrupts his sleep. I wake up in the middle of the night to new sounds – creaks and thunks that don’t exist upstairs. Or maybe they do but they sound different down here.

I miss my bed. I miss waking up without having to shake off the back pain. I miss saying goodnight to Seth and being available to the boys.

But I also like my little room. My freedom. Independence.

As with much in life…it isn’t black and white or green and red. It is both/and. Clear as mud. Yes I love, yes I miss, yes to everything.