Company

Carmel-by-the Sea, California

Billy flew home last night. I drove him to Monterey airport, driving back in the dark to our rental home, letting myself in to the now-empty but well-lit house (he made sure of that before we left) and standing for a moment. I took a deep breath.

If you have followed along at all (and I reiterate, why would you?) you know that the time we spend in Carmel is split between time together with friends; time we spend alone together; time I spend with my fristers, and the time when I am here by myself. It all sounds lovely, but last night, with Billy still in the air enroute to Los Angeles, I felt lonely. We had such a great time here with our friends, Todd and Christopher, and their family entourage. And I had so looked forward to Christmas and New Year's here with them. It was over in a the blink of an eye. On January 2nd, we returned to LA to check on our business (good) and my mom (stable). We drove back up on Saturday night -- the second rainy night drive from LA to Carmel in a fortnight.

I usually enjoy my time alone here in Carmel. It's pretty much the only place where I have been completely alone since we married. When Billy has needed to travel for business, I almost always go with him. I don't think I have ever spent a night alone in our present home. But I've spent lots of time alone in Carmel, especially since we lost our irrepressible Aussie who accompanied us on the early trips when we stayed at Tucked In (see January blog posts from 2009, available here subject to fees and disclosures).

Being alone is important because it allows you to focus on yourself, and in doing so, you realize how much you want and need to have people in your life to throw that focus off of yourself. You need to give; you need to compromise; you need to put other people's needs ahead of you own. Just as role models or whatever can provide us with our moral compass, being alone can help you to reset your community compass. We are all but a small part, somewhere in the midst of concentric circles. It's important to be aware of who else those circles contain--family, friends, neighbors, your community both small and at large, and to be aware of what you can and should do as your part. But it's not bad to be on your own occasionally, to indulge yourself and recharge your battery. Here in Carmel, I am able to bask in the universe of my own Bronteness. But, the truth is, having had our time here with our friends, I missed Carole after she left. And I miss Todd and Christopher. And, most especially, I miss Billy. Not that we spend every waking moment here together. On the contrary. Billy sometimes walks alone, preferring to leave the house early before I even want to think about it. And I usually go to Mass alone on Sundays, though he will accompany me once or twice during our time here together.

Most Sunday afternoons, Billy goes to open houses to look at homes that are currently up for sale here. Don't ask me why he does this. In the years that we have been coming here, he has always spent time driving around looking at real estate and attending open houses. Not once, during that time, has he said to me that he has found a house he would consider purchasing. It is purely recreational. I've struggled to understand the point of this, but one day I realized that it is a lot like my reading cookbooks and food magazines. I probably don't prepare five percent of the recipes I mark with Post-it tabs, but while I am doing it I am awash in the fantasy of the wonderful dinner parties I will have, feeding my friends with this new clever and astoundingly delicious dish which I will prep, prepare, and plate perfectly. But when it comes to it, I'm often too scattered by stress and too fatigued to actually plan and execute this fantasy dinner party. Not that I don't have the energy, but, these days, it is a different kind which tends to go out on the dance floor rather than in a marathon of cooking. And maybe Billy's interest in the houses is similar -- imagining himself working in a well-appointed home office, or gazing at the sunset from the window of his living room which overlooks Carmel beach. I'm just guessing, as he's never really explained this to me. And that's ok.

Marriage. You don't always explain. You don't always understand. But you have someone there with whom you can curl up on the sofa in front of the fire and watch the third season of Downton Abbey. Steven Sondheim called it Company. And with Billy back home in Los Angeles, I am bereft of that company for the moment. However, my Las Chicas fristers arrive tomorrow night for a weekend of chatter, laughter, deep conversations, and intense girlfriend silliness. DG's father-in-law passed away last weekend, and she will be coming here just after traveling to Boston for his funeral. As she wrote in her email to tell us that she would still be able to make it for our weekend...and I will need it more than ever. But we always need this company, frister-style.

So for today, and for tomorrow, I am alone. I'm doing a bit of cooking in preparation for their time here. I'm gathering together a few surprise treats that will be waiting for them on their beds. And I'm looking forward to their visit, and to Billy's return the following Saturday night. We will have ten more days here together before we pack up and return to LA. We've had an especially good time here with our friends. The first half of our stay was stellar, and I am joyfully anticipating our remaining time here together. We'll enjoy the peaceful beauty of the beach and this community, as well as the more slowly-paced life we share here. But what I am looking forward to the most is simply the pleasure of his company, here in this beautiful place that has grown to feel so much like home to us both. Thanks for reading my blog. Welcome Las Chicas Fristers, and safe trip back, Billy!