Running.

I've been travelling lately. A lot. I didn't plan on it, but it was something a bit out of my hands. When my Dad died and people realized that once everything calmed down I would be on my own, I got a lot of offers for company. I love everyone who offered, but I really was planning on being just fine on my own. I have wedding details to finish, books to read, spring cleaning to do, and many other time-fillers. Being by myself is temporary, and I am nothing if not strong and capable of being on my own. At least for a few months. In the weeks after my dad passed, my brother was able to be home a lot. In fact, the first night I ever spent alone in my house came 6 weeks after my dad passed. For 24 years and 6 weeks, I've never slept here alone. Now I'm not afraid of my house. Or at least I didn't think I was. Trying to sleep that night was one of the hardest things I've had to do. It wasn't really the sounds because I know houses creak and the wind blows. It was the silence. I had never noticed how quiet my house was until that night. I was so alert and my emotions were so heightened because I was the only one in my house. I've lived on my own and spent a good deal of time alone, but this time it was different. No one was coming home. Everyone was back to work or school, and I was at home. My dad wasn't coming home from work. My mom wasn't downstairs folding laundry. It was just me. And the silence. And it was awful.

Obviously I survived that night. I lasted in my bed until about 3 am and then I called it quits and slept a few crappy hours on the couch in the living room. The whole time, in between thinking a mass murderer was coming or that my house was haunted, my mind stayed on this thought. My house is not meant to be silent. I am not meant for silence. Even while my mom was sick, our house always had laughter. Even though we weren't fulfilling a "bucket list" or living each day as if it were her last, we still laughed. God blessed us with an incredibly tight knit family. I think a lot of people have seen that, but I lived it. We liked sitting around the kitchen table and joking around. Even after my mom dad, the laughter continued. Even after my dad died, the laughter still continued. But when everyone finally went back to their lives, I was left. And instead of laughter there is silence. Not sadness, just silence. I'm not writing this for pity, just honesty. I think if I moved to a new city and was starting a new life, the silence would be different. I moved to grad school on my own and dealt with the silence the first few days. But this is different. This silence is almost a reminder of what's missing. It's temporary but it's still unnerving.

That first night I was so determined to win the battle against the silence in my house. "This is my house. I won't be afraid. I won't give in to the fear," I kept telling myself. And then when the second night to be alone came a few days later, I told myself the same thing. I need to learn to be on my own. I need to do this. I can't do this. I don't want to do this. And then I realized something. Silence is temporary. Just like sadness and tragedy, love wins. Joy wins. I'm not alone. I am while my sisters are at school and my fiance finishes school, but that's all temporary. The silence is temporary. I have the greatest gift of all. A lot of people love me. One person really loves me. Enough so to marry me next month. And the time is fast approaching when this house will be filled with laughter on a permanent basis. I don't need to prove to anyone how strong I am by staying in my house alone. Yes, I can do it. The night eventually turns to morning and my house isn't so scary anymore. But, I have the opportunity to spend time with the people I love. So I drive. And I spend time with some pretty wonderful people. Sometimes you have to seek out laughter. I'm not running away from the silence. I'm running towards the laughter. This is my house and that won't change, but people are who really make it a home. I would love for my dad to come up the stairs again, and I would love for my mom to be bustling around the house again, but I can't dwell on the fact that they won't. I love them the most, but that love is in a new place. It's in my heart and my wedding and my laughter. So I'm packing it up, putting it in the passenger seat, and hitting the road. For now.