Solitude

rainbowsIt has been a very busy and exciting time in The Life of Von. The beloved Daughter bought a beautiful cottage and moved into it at the end of last week. The move went well and some magical things happened, some fun times were had and some good decisions made. By Sunday she was all unpacked and had arranged her life to her liking. We went shopping for all those food items you only buy every few months or even years, but which are necessary for the well-stocked cupboard if you like to cook. My Daughter’s list was long. I just bought a few items and waited outside for her while she finished. As I sat I contemplated. I experienced solitude. It was as if I was alone with just my thoughts and memories. I remembered how long we have lived in the area, how many memories we made and how many changes I have witnessed, including the building of my Daughter’s cottage six years ago. My aGrandparents brought my amother to this place regularly when she was a small child and our association runs through four generations and a century of time. My mother visited, her mother visited, because it is a wild and interesting beach. Sometimes calm, sometimes tumultuous and always deceptive. I have visited, stayed, holidayed, lived and been a resident here and lived through the gamut of different connections for my whole life and so has my Daughter. Nothing could be more familiar and nowhere could feel more like home….and yet, and yet……….IMG_6749
I have often said I can make a home anywhere, with just a suitcase of familiar items. I have never actually analysed what those items would be, but it wouldn’t take long to work out the things that give me context – a stone Buddha which belonged to my aGrandfather, some items of family jewellery, a few books, a couple of pictures, a whisk bought in Amsterdam 25 years ago, a few pieces of my own tapestry work, a pink merino wool blanket, little else; the things you’d grab if there was a fire. However while I sat contemplating, I came to the sad realisation that I have never felt what I think many people feel; a sense of belonging, a deep sense of being at home. While I love my home and have a strong connection and I’m comfortable in my own skin, I don’t find it hard to leave anywhere, however much I love it. I adore various cities around the world – Barcelona, London, Sydney, Amsterdam, Paris, but I have no great yearnings to go back. I might like to, but I don’t feel compelled. It seems I don’t have a deep sense of belonging, the anchoring which must feel greatly comforting, reassuring and connecting. I’m happy in my own company but I just seem to have that ‘adoptee thing’ of feeling alone, no matter what happens in my life. It is often welcome, familiar, comfortable, but sometimes unsettling, when I get in touch with that deep well of sadness, that empty space, ‘the hole in the heart’ that comes from cruel loss. It comes and then it’s gone, swept away like a rim of froth on a wave. Until the next time it hits, unexpectedly, powerfully and breaking my heart wide open. I think of my fellow adoptee, Rock Wilk, so far away, pounding the streets of Brooklyn in the mornings, so familiar to him, so unknown to me, except through his writing and his exploration of his feelings. I think of my fellow adoptee Trace at her home, finishing another book, achieving, learning and knowing. I’m so thankful for her presence, her skills and experience and her loving kindness. I think of my fellow adoptee Muzz who speaks to me often, listens and understands, keeps me on my toes with new information. I think of Claire so far away in cold Canada, struggling with her health, all inheritances of adoption. I think of my Sister Authors, their care and consideration, their gentle kindness, their thoughtful writings. I feel surrounded by warmth, caring and encircled by knowingness. I feel understood and I’m grateful. I know I can say anything and never be dismissed, laughed at, scorned or sneered at. I am understood – a priceless gift and perhaps that is Home, my safe place! I thank you all for being you and for being there.
And to finish a little piece on being alone –

The Social Construction of Solitude.

2 thoughts on “Solitude

  1. My heart is full reading this post, my dear friend. We have travelled far on the journey and yet we have not met yet. It’s my hope that someday I can thank you and hug you for all you’ve done for my soul.

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