Eleven

Alone Isn't Lonely

Yesterday, I walked.

My girlfriend had to head into work for the day, so I had a rare and blissful day to myself. As mommies all over the globe can attest, Alone Time is not exactly the chief perk of motherhood. It typically comes in snippets, in the minivan or walking across a parking lot, for instance. And that’s exactly why I value Alone Time so very much: because it’s rare. It affords silence and the ability to shut off to-do mantras and “listening ears.” Alone Time feels a lot like a snow day. When it happens, and I never seem to know for sure when it may, I relish the shit out of it.

Here’s the hilarious part that will make moms all over the world want to punch me in the mouth: I don’t even work full time. I tutor part of the year, work in University Admissions during the winter, and try to get some freelance things going on in the spring and summer. I know moms who work 40 plus hours a week, come home and run a family, and squeeze five days’ worth of laundry, cleaning, errands, shopping, organizing, family time-spending, counseling, husband-dating, and more into the measley 48 hours they have off on the weekends. Some do it with multiple children and others do it with the additional weight of being single and having no one to share duties with. It boggles my mind.

So I hope it doesn’t come across that I’m bitching about the rarity of my Alone Time. I’m not meaning to, because I know how freakishly lucky I am. I relish it solely because when I am alone, I finally give myself permission to not be doing. To slow down, think about nothing if I feel like it, and just be. This is somewhat new to me, and I’m struggling with the concept a bit. When I am at home, sometimes this not-be-doing attitude leads to what some (like everyone who knows me) may call a lack of productivity. After all, I’d much rather read my book than do a pile of dishes in the sink or shampoo the upstairs carpet. DVRd episode of The Bachelor or put away the pile of clean clothes in my room? Roses, please. Quick 2 or 3 (or 13 or 18) rounds of Trivia Crack? Yes, I can squeeze that in. But even during those times alone, I’m weighted down with my whispering in my own ear that I should really get up now and be productive. Eventually, and reluctantly, I move on to my duties and get some stuff done, like a true grown-up and like gazillions of moms (and dads) everywhere.

But times alone are not the same as true Alone Time, and yesterday, I got plenty of that rare gift. I got up when I wanted (blissful), took my time getting ready (aaah), and meandered out the door to get some coffee at a local cafe (delish). Then I set off for my four-and-a-half hour self-guided walking tour of stunning, vibrant San Francisco. It was a cool, breezy morning, and I started by walking along the Bay, on the Embarcadero. I shopped in the Ferry Building, people-watched my heart out, and listened to three episodes of Serial (a fantastic podcast you should check out). I was a city girl, and I was loving it. I trudged up the impossibly steep hills, toward the marina district, feeling so proud of the workout I was giving my thighs. I watched an inner city Middle School play yard full of uniformed students, while almost run over by a separate P.E. class running their laps on the sidewalks around the school. The kids looked so different from children in our neighborhood schools (most had dark hair and what appeared to be Asian and Hispanic heritage), but they were identical in their giggles and teenage silliness. I walked past bars, pastry shops, laundromats, and row upon row of cool, old houses. Once in the Cow Hollow area, a few hours later, I turned off Serial and went in and out of shops, listening to tourists and neighbors alike. I sat outdoors at a small bakery and had such an amazing ham and cheese croissant that my mouth is watering again just thinking about it. Grandmas pushed babies, friends laughed loudly, a guy in a Giants tee-shirt talked to himself in an alarming way. I skirted the tents of the homeless and smiled at an old lady I helped out of a cab. It was an amazing day.

The one second of the day that I remember most was as I climbed a monstrous hill lined with houses so huge and gorgeous that they appear to be on the verge of teetering over and rolling down into the Bay. The hike was burning my legs, and my lungs were screaming for a little break, so I sat down on the edge of a brick wall at the base of someone’s driveway. Turning off my iPhone so I could hear the world around me, I opened my eyes and looked around. There I was, at the top of the world. The Bay, with its boats, seals, and crumbling Alcatraz were far away in my sight line. Roofs of house after house spilled out below me. Directly above my head drooped tree limbs of a tree not seen in Virginia, green and gorgeously curved and complex. Life was moving and stirring everywhere below me, but it was so, so quiet. Suddenly it hit me that in the expanse of all that lay before me, below me, and around me, I did not see one other human being. I was, for that second, completely alone in one of the largest, most beautiful cities in the world. No one knew where I was. This second was completely mine.

As I trudged up the rest of the hill, I started missing my girls, wishing they had been with me. I began to wonder when my friend was getting off work and what time we were hitting the road to meet our hilarious girlfriends for the weekend. My Alone Time need was quenched in the most exquisite of ways, and I was thankful for the replenishment of spirit it gave me. 

I hailed a cab shortly after and spent the next fifteen minutes getting to know my driver.