... The bliss of solitude.
I spent a good part of my childhood by myself. My mother and grandmother both worked and my brother is nearly eight years older than I, so by the time I was seven he was already in high school and, like most teenagers, spent as much time as he could out with his friends. I have always regarded this as one of the great strokes of luck in my life. I not only got to know myself, but grew comfortable with myself. I have never felt lonely. Not even these past 11 days while Debbie has been away in Greece. I have, however, felt a poignant lack. An essential component of my life is missing. The house isn't quite the same without her. Life isn't. Debbie is one of those people who knows how to savor life and one of the great delights of mine is to have her tell me what she has done on any given day. Not because what she has done is so unusual or exciting, but because her enthusiasm in infectious. She not only knows how to experience joy, but how to communicate it. Who wouldn't miss someone like that?
But of course! Isn't she sending you a few e-mails or calling you, Frank? I am sure the "poignant lack" is mutual!
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