After two weeks of a full house, including my husband at home on vacation and my daughter back from New Orleans in her last week before school, and my son and friends over and my cousin from Trinidad here for her niece's freshman installation (we make it a big event in our family), I am home alone today, and I relish it. I loved having everyone around, and who knows why it feels lonely when they leave sometimes and at other times it feels peaceful, but today, it's the latter. Maybe it has something to do with talking to my daughter by phone first thing this morning. She sounded, in a word, happy.
The house is quiet now. I have just cleaned up the hurricane that hit the kitchen in which my husband cooked jambalaya last night, and tidied up my daughter's room where she and my cousin stayed. The living room still needs my attention; cushions are tossed everywhere, but I'll do that later. I have just made myself breakfast of a cheddar and onion omelet and matcha green tea, and I'm about to get back to work on my book project, which feels deliciously like spending time with a very grand lady of 97 years, the good doctor, my subject. I do have a concurrent assignment, but I am waiting for two stories to come in for that, so today is all mine to spend with the good doctor.