It was a stroke of luck that gifted me 45 hours of solitude. Initially, I was set to drive my niece, Mia, and her newborn to visit her dad, my brother-in-law, in Nashville. But plans shifted, and suddenly, I found myself with an unexpected stretch of free time. I promptly canceled the dog’s boarding and bath appointment, waved goodbye to my husband as he departed for his business trip, and realized my 8-year-old daughter, Zoe, was already at her other grandparents’ house.
And then, the universe opened its doors—quite literally. I was alone. Utterly alone.
With no one around to call my name or ask where their things were, I felt a wave of bliss wash over me. I could indulge in binge-watching all my favorite shows without a single whisper about aliens, cowboy films, or historical battles. No more flipping through the kids’ channels to ensure little Tater wouldn’t stumble upon some cartoon that I deemed inappropriate. I could leave the television on all night, lulled by infomercials, while munching on crackers I had placed on the pillow for late-night cravings.
I dreamt of baking chocolate chip cookies packed with walnuts—since Zoe isn’t a fan—and piling in as many chocolate-covered caramel pieces as I could because, unlike someone else, I love chocolate. And guess what? I could devour every single cookie without sharing. My dinner could consist of popcorn, followed by cheesecake for dessert, all while enjoying NCIS on repeat with my laptop perched on my lap.
I envisioned myself lounging in pajama pants and a tank top, free from the constraints of a bra—because who cares about appearances when it’s just me? Thoughts of sinking into chick flick marathons, sleeping in until noon, and luxuriating in long bubble baths danced around my mind like fantasies from a fairy tale. After all, I’m a 52-year-old woman juggling the joys of raising an 8-year-old granddaughter, caring for an 85-year-old father who lives just a stone’s throw away, and managing a traveling husband.
This was pure bliss! Imagine reading entire chapters of a book without the interruptions of seeking lost socks, finding a child, or answering a barrage of “Why?” questions.
I concocted a plan, almost like a general strategizing for an important mission. I’d feign remorse for being all alone, missing my loving family terribly while they went about their days. Yet, I knew I would bravely manage through those 45 (yes, forty-five!!!) hours without them.
I envisioned catching up on sleep, awakening refreshed, and ready to seize the day. I considered staying awake the entire time out of sheer excitement—but quickly decided that was unrealistic.
Once I finally had the house to myself, I plopped down on the couch, grabbed my laptop, and turned on the TV. I found Hallmark movies I had recorded and settled in for a delightful mix of watching, reading, and surfing the web, fully prepared to relish in my solitude.
However, four hours later, I woke up to a dead laptop, an ended recording, and a sore neck. I promptly called Zoe to see if she wanted to come home a bit early. After all, we had chocolate chip cookies to bake and a spa day to plan together.
This article was originally published on June 22, 2015.
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Summary
In a delightful twist of fate, Lila Hart found herself with 45 hours of uninterrupted solitude after a change in plans. Embracing the freedom, she dreamt of indulging in her favorite activities, from binge-watching TV shows to baking cookies without restrictions. However, her plans took a humorous turn when she fell asleep and awoke to a new realization: the joy of sharing those moments with her granddaughter, Zoe.