I've noticed that Sunday evenings seem to be hard for me. I'm not sure why. Perhaps because it seems to be a time for most families when everyone is home together. I think about the times long ago when the children were still here. Sunday evening was generally a rather quiet time with everyone preparing for the coming week and just kinda kicking back. I tend to feel loneliest at this time. It is a little hard to explain what it is like. I'm not depressed, I'm lonely. There is a significant difference. I wish I had some one(s) with whom I could spend this time . So tonight I'm feeling rather mopey and wishing the phone would ring, but knowing that families are doing family things.
I wonder if my parents or my mother-in-law ever had the Sunday-night-blues. My parents had each other right to the end, although Mom was absent due to Alzheimer's. Dad might well have missed the company. He never said so. He wouldn't.
When my husband was alive Sunday was like any other night. He watched TV, I read or did a crossword or worked on something that busied my hands. We didn't talk much, but there was another human in the house and while there was a loneliness, it wasn't as flat as it is now. Since coming back to the house, I've had to face a lot of new experiences. This is just one of many.
Well, clearly I have some adjusting to do. It is part of the process, I understand that. Boy, is it hard sometimes.
I think I'll end with a couple pictures of my favorite sunsets:
The soft pastels of New Mexico.
And the vivid sky over Florida:
Ahh. Now I feel better. Goodnight, all.