I asked my husband for one night away. Not together, not for an event, not with friends. One night, by myself, to be completely alone. No kids, no husband, no obligations, no noise. Now, don’t get me wrong. I adore my family. I love the noise and the chaos and the constant chatter, driving, and planning that go along with raising three gifts. But ever since our youngest came on the scene, I’ve realized how desperately the introvert in me needs space. Quiet. And sleep.
For Christmas, he presented me with a gift certificate to the Ritz, just 3 miles from home. Our family knows this hotel well; my parents, sisters, husband and I have all used it for various get-aways and business meetings. To me it is comfort and escape, at an arm’s reach. No, I didn’t need to travel far, but I did need to find an evening I felt comfortable to retreat alone. The real value in the gift was not the money, but my husband’s offer to stay home alone with all the kids, doing all the parenting things that at times take a village, and freely say “Go.” This husband of mine? He is the gift.
So, here I sit in a quiet, peaceful room, overlooking the buzz of the evening commute 15 floors down and writing for the first time in months. My daughter asked “What do you write.” Not much anymore. I need to get out of my head and onto paper. My goals for this solo retreat are to write, to sit quietly, to pray, to sleep (I hope), and to return to my family ready to refill. But that’s tomorrow. For now, it’s just me.