On Tuesday night I spoke at an event with hundreds of creative people in the city. My little man Max had a sleep over at his Nan’s house and my husband was on night shift.
I went out for ice-cream with some friends afterwards and then drove the long drive home.
As I drove home, I remembered.
I remembered what it was like to drive home to an empty house.
I remembered the vulnerability of speaking with hundreds and arriving home to the company of one.
I remembered what it was like going solo.
At first I snuggled up in bed, the first time alone overnight in my little shack by myself since I was married and I was a little excited.
No early morning wake up.
No late night wrestle for who had the bounty of the blanket.
No snoring. (smile)
Then I laid awake and I remembered.
It is easy to forget the places where new seasons dwell and the pain of the old fades till we remember no more.
It is easy to quickly forget those miracles that were so fresh and real, as the dulling of day to day life takes away the sting of their brilliance.
It is moments like this that we are grateful for the now.
Year upon year.
Wedding after wedding.
Moment after moment, where I rocked up to a party by myself wondering, when ever will I have a plus one to pair alongside so I am not the only one alone.
Again.
I enjoyed my night of quiet, but more than that I was profoundly stilled by the reality of how much my days have changed and how every single thing I begged for has come to pass.
Despite the daily struggles.
I am a very blessed woman indeed.
He is faithful.
He has turned my mourning into dancing.
Amanda
