Solitude is a cool word. Not like, “Whoa! Dude! That’s cool!” It’s not even beatnik cool. Solitude is like a cool brook meandering in a silent forest.
I have three daughters. Solitude is fleeting. My house normally sounds like a dozen roofers pounding nails, that little Who from Whoville prancing around banging cymbals, a tornado siren blaring, and Leatherface trimming my hedges with his trusty chainsaw.
There is no loneliness in our household. My wife and I make jokes about it. She is going to run away to Costa Rica, I’m going to divorce her and let her keep the kids…oh, you play that game too.
The girls will be home from school soon. Let the games begin.