No Man Is an Island

My parents have been out of town this week on a cruise, relaxing and having a good time, and didn’t take me (not that I’m bitter), so I’ve been playing house. It’s been rather fun, and I’ve decided I’m quite fond of my own company. I think it helps that I’m an introvert anyway, and so it doesn’t bother me to be alone. My brother is here, too, but not really because he only comes home to sleep, and that’s usually after I’ve already gone to bed. So I come home from work, make myself some dinner, and read a book, read everyone’s xangas and try not to update mine for the fifty jillionth time in one day, and basically do whatever else I feel like doing. I can play my music as loudly as I want and sing as loudly as I want, which I’m quite fond of doing. All in all, it’s been a good experience, one that I will have to remember when I’m away at graduate school and drowning in loneliness because I only know two people in the whole city of Knoxville.

But even though I’ve enjoyed it, I’ve realized how much we are made for companionship. I’m not talking about marriage really, just the need for relationships. It’s true what Donne said: “No man is an island.” And I know that while I like being on my own right now, were this to continue for weeks, I wouldn’t like it nearly as much. I’ve missed my parents; I’ve missed sharing about how my day was and just being in their company, even if we don’t say anything. Did you know that laughing at something by yourself is not nearly as satisfying as laughing at something with a friend? I discovered that last night while watching The Amazing Race (which is incredibly entertaining--I wish I could be on it), the show my mom and I usually watch together. Last night’s episode was really funny and I was absolutely cracking up at some parts, but I kept looking around, wanting to catch my mom’s eye as we shared the laughter, and she wasn’t there. I think for the first time I understand why they always told me how much they missed me while I was at Union. I would always dutifully reply, “Yeah, I miss you too,” even though most of the time my days were so full of Union life that I didn’t really think about home much, and Union in a way was my home. Ultimately, I’m used to being the one missed, not the one doing the missing. I guess my point to all of this (“Finally,” you’re thinking) is that I’ve begun to appreciate this season I’ve had at home a lot more. It wasn’t at all what I wanted, but I think it might have been exactly what I needed. In a few months I will be over 300 miles away from my parents and I won’t have the luxury of seeing them every day like I do now, so I need to drink in every moment while I can. That’s what living truly is, I suppose. Just savoring every morsel you’re given. God knew that, even though I didn’t.