There Was Always Someone In The House

I was thinking the other day, as I often do in solitude. There has always been someone in my house. Either children or husband. I have not been totally alone since birth. That is such a sobering statement. And now, since my husband died, I am all alone. Simple things like going to bed at night, become a chore. Insomnia is now a welcome friend because of the loneliness. I am tired in a way that nothing can fix. A few days ago, I had my entire family here: daughters, their husbands and all the grands except one and my only brother. While they were inside, I had to come on the porch and reflect on the moment. Although the visit was brief, I am thankful to have had them for the time they were here. It is a memory I will cherish forever.