Most of the time I am not lonely.
Between working at Target and living with my parents and having the girls, I usually retreat into my evenings of solitude grateful to have a few hours of (mostly) uninterrupted quiet and space.
(And my computer.... I loves me internets.)
But then, every so often, that overwhelming feeling that I am missing someone, that partner, that friend, that confident, sneaks in and gollumps me from out of nowhere.
I have enough sense to avoid romantic comedies like the plague and do my best to console myself that blatantly happy couples still have the same problems as everyone else, some just hide them better than others.
But sometimes those actions are not enough to ignore the culturally ingrained idea that the world should always operate in pairs and that my other half is missing.
Tonight the crippling realization of my lack of yin (or is it yang?) was from none other than my bloggy reading list and a pair of beloved cousins.
Remember LauraJean? She's the mother of Kristina's partner-in-crime Quinn, who recently had a second adorable little blue-eyed girl and is often a source of love and compassion for me.
Well, she put up a sweet little blog post featuring a perfect picture of darling baby Maya.
Ridiculously cute, no?
But then, mere moments later, her husband Tim published a longer piece about political agenda and environmental conservation.
Which I should probably admit I merely skimmed, as it just wasn't as captivating as gazing at baby Maya, but he's really quite smart and I'm sure it's a well thought out and stimulating read, and I have every intention of reading it more in depth once I stop alternating between cute baby coos and self-pity long enough to regain abstract intellectual thought processes.
But you see, it wasn't even WHAT they wrote about that mattered at all! It was that the two of them were blogging at the same time, and me seeing that and imagining them sitting on the couch together with their laptops, quietly talking about things as they came up and just enjoying each others basic presence during the moments of internally focused silence.
And suddenly I felt very, very alone in this silently sleeping house and found myself desperately missing having that other person next to me.