A Little Retreating

At this very moment I am not here.

I am, instead, at my daughter's apartment in Collegetown.  She is working at a camp this summer, so I have the whole place to myself.  All fifteen square feet of it.

Actually, it's a fairly nice, one-bedroom flat.  All it lacks is a dishwasher and the sound of silence.

You see, there is a community swimming pool just down the street.  This morning they started in at zero:dawn thirty a.m. broadcasting a swim meet loudly over the speaker system.  I was thrilled to be a part of it, especially since I felt as though I was actually poolside due to the sheer VOLUME.

In addition, there is apparently a train that goes past her apartment, or at least in close proximity to it.  And the bells and whistles go off at ALL HOURS OF THE NIGHT.  You haven't lived until you've been awakened by a train whistle right outside your window.

Despite all of this, it is still amazing to me that my girl-child knows how to live on her own.  She cooks, she cleans, she pays bills, and she goes to school all without my assistance.  Her apartment is uncluttered and very comfortable. How did she ever learn to do it all by herself?  And where is that little girl, that little baby girl, I cuddled and sang lullabies to?

The lease on this place is up at the end of July, and she'll be moving again.  This time she'll be sharing a place with two other people.  Somehow I think she'll miss being on her own and she'll look forward to those times when she can have the place to herself.  Being on your own spoils you. 

But for now, I'm the one that's being spoiled.

Today I'll go to antique shops.  I'll try to find a coffee shop.  I'll read.  I'll relax.

And I'll try to pry up the railroad tracks and cut the wires to the pool speakers.

A little retreat is good for the soul.