Tony runs into the kitchen. He wears a navy blue business shirt and un-matching shorts. He is barefoot.
“I only have a minute. I need a glass of water.” He seems to have momentarily forgotten where the cups and faucet are.
He explains that his students are answering a question, and he needs to hurry back.
Tony is teaching online this semester. Bi-weekly, he joins with students from California, Pakistan, Texas, and Nepal. A unique first. He never goes to his campus office anymore.
I am past being startled when I walk into our bedroom and find him sitting in bed reading. I am past surprise at his presence mid-day. I am past wanting to interrupt his class by parading through his office in a wig and a leopard coat.
I am not past longing for those days when the house was entirely mine, when the garage door closed and didn’t reopen until 6:00 p.m.
As I sit in my own office I hear him loudly explain the intricacies of Neural Networks. Though he is pinched up next to his computer screen, he still uses his teacher voice as if he were projecting to the back of a classroom.
It is the quiet house I miss. It’s knowing the Thai takeout leftovers won’t be touched before lunchtime. It’s knowing if I slip into a cat nap, no one will chide me for sleeping midday.
For a woman such as me, who chose to stay at home and care for the children, the first appreciation of a quiet home came when the baby went down for a nap. Those sacred hours of silence were more valuable than truffle-sniffing dogs. Then came preschool and the first invitation to play in a friend’s backyard.
Then one day, all the children were in school, and the mother (me), finally won back a quiet house. Silence in one’s own home is better than a day at the spa.
For the woman who raised her children, who invites her grown children to move in before they can afford a house, for the woman who plays hostess to the relatives for the weekend, or whose husband retires too early or suddenly works from home, the silent home will always be a refuge.
I now understand why my father after he retired, still drove himself to the office everyday, and when he could no longer drive himself, Mom dropped him off and picked him up.
He needed a room all to himself too.
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