Really for the most part, yes. After some extra time with my son over the holiday I’d not realized how exhausted I’d become. It’s not because of him in the least, he’s generous and kind, it’s because I’ve since childhood been an extreme introvert. This pandemic has made it far too easy to stay at home alone or go on solo drives or hikes. I’m not complaining in the least. I welcome it.
No longer do I have to feel I failed someone for always turning down invitations to hang out in person. Virtual ones are easier to avoid, as they usually involve schedules and groups and I’m not about to combine my least favorite thing, being in front of a camera, with another of my least favorite things, being in a group of people expecting me to interact with them.
And I’m not complaining. It’s a peaceful way to be. I get up two hours before work, read and have coffee by the window and watch the birds with Yuki and hear him chatter-chit-chitter at them. I clock in to work on time and never worry about being back late from a break. Between interactions for work the house is silent, at peace, solemn and comfortable. I clock out, read, do some gardening, writing, make dinner, fall asleep. I text stories I find to friends. I laugh at jokes I read online. I’m happy.
It’s alone but never am I lonely. I go hike alone or (safely) see friends every few weeks if at all, but my existence isn’t about social things. I don’t miss it. I miss individuals from time to time but I don’t get lonely ever. Not since childhood, as long as I can remember.
I don’t write all this to tell anyone about the depth of my days, or the lack of it. I write it to remember the moment I turned on music and felt like my vision changed, it echoed the air around me, because I had nothing but silence so very long.
It felt more significant than music had before. This visceral reaction of immediate self-protection from the always-overwhelming sound, how it eased and melted into the notes as they played. It felt like the woman’s voice was coming from somewhere inside my own head and it was exquisite, this moment, so much I didn’t want to forget it, I had to write it and here we are.
A Burd in Flight 