Minibreak in Never Say Never

He has been away. Gone to New York City for a long weekend with work friends. I have been here. Home with our pets. His and mine. Home in his house. Where I spend most of my time now. I joke that I will turn my apartment into an office. I laugh when I say I will get a better write-off that way. It's not out of the realm of possibilities.

I dropped him off at the airport early on Thursday, looking forward to my four-night, five-day vacation. Not from him. Not at all. I love his company. I love the fun we have. Whatever this is we are building, I love it. It's precisely what I have always wanted. It's what my mind designed. Please let me get what I want this time.

But he is more social than I am. An extrovert who enjoys the stimulation of people more than I do. Who likes more noise in his life than I do. He falls asleep at night with the radio on. He naps with the TV on. While I recharge best in silence and solitude. I can go for days without turning on the music or a show. I can move around these rooms with only the sound of my own breath and never wonder what is missing. And so, while he ate and drank and romped all over Manhattan with a bevy of pals, I wrapped myself in a quiet little blanket in this cozy little cave.

In the still of his home, I read a whole book. I read a lot of the Internet. I finished "Orange Is the New Black." I naked sunbathed in the backyard. I cooked a little. Ate a little more. I went to bed much earlier than he and I usually do. And I woke up earlier too. And I planned my coming week sitting at the kitchen table.

While he was away, I went to dinner with a girlfriend. And brunch with a favorite pair. I had a long phone call with one whom I miss. I went to Pilates. I washed my clothes.

He will be home in 24 hours, bringing with him his own set of plans for the week. And we will resume our constant companionship, each energized by our minibreak.