Solitude by Jennifer Tiszai God has recently moved my family and me out of our we’ve-always-lived-here comfort of southern California to we-don’t-know-anyone Arizona. It’s been an interesting transition. In southern California we were all active in our church, but in Arizona we didn’t even have a church. After the boxes had been unpacked and my husband went to work at his new job I looked around the house and wondered, “Now what?” For the next several weeks I had an odd sensation. I didn’t quite know what to make of it. My life, which had once been packed to the brim, now had holes in it. There was space in my life. Was it emptiness? Loneliness? My life was emptier, but I had no sadness. I was more alone, and I missed seeing my friends, but I didn’t feel isolated. These were strange feelings I hadn’t had in a long time. How could my life lose so much without my feeling loss? Somehow, the feeling felt familiar. It had been a long time, but the smell of grass wet from sprinklers and drying off in front of the swamp cooler came to me on a warm breeze. Summer vacation. That time of year when our schedules disappeared, along with most of our friends, but our best memories were made. Summer vacation. When, on the best days, we only did what we wanted, what homework and early darkness would make impossible in the fall. Summer vacation. When nothing seemed impossible and no dream was too high to reach. Summer vacation. Before we grew up. But now, as an adult, I had a chance to once again have a summer vacation. My life had been distilled down to its essence: husband, kids, and writing. These things had been sorely neglected our last months in California with the endless rounds of good-bye parties, packing, and last minute details. My computer beckoned me like an old friend. My kids relished their new treat: a backyard and a house big enough to run in. Like summer vacation, the days stretched seemingly endless ahead until one day it’s time to go back to school and it all seems too short. My back-to-school moment came when we went back home for a visit. As we descended into the valley, the pressure descended on my shoulders like a summer inversion layer, smog included. Through a rushed visit trying to cram in as many people and places as possible, I wondered how I ever thought this was a normal life. While I enjoyed being with my old friends, I was more than ready to leave when our visit was up. Driving home we crossed the Colorado River. Safely over on the Arizona side the pressure I’d been feeling all weekend mysteriously lifted. My lovely summer vacation feeling had returned. And now I knew what I had been feeling—solitude. I couldn’t wait to get back to it.

Copyright 2005 Jennifer Tiszai. This is copyrighted material. Please don't use without permission.

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