It was an act of cleansing. Only she did it not every spring like nature warrants but every time she felt overcome. She never had a problem with life, it was the noise, the constant chatter, and company. She craved the stillness that escaped everyday life. So when it reached her limit which was reached way more quickly than most she shut down to reboot.
She got into a frenzy cleaning and organizing the drawers in the bedrooms, bathrooms, cabinets, and kitchens, the pantry and shed, the bank accounts, closets, refrigerators, sock drawers, pens, papers, books, lists, phone numbers, contacts, people, and plans.
She purged them all of the wasteful excesses. She didn’t stop for a second and didn’t listen to anyone. She worked alone and spoke less. She cut off from people and hibernated.
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Those who were close to her didn’t question it any longer. They were familiar with her frequent bouts of a need for solitude. They did not know how she spent her time, only that she was ‘going off the grid’ and would not be reachable. You could call if you were dying she said. But, she was quick to add they would be better off calling someone else in any case since she rarely answered her phone even when she was being social.
They did not know she cleaned feverishly and organized everything from her make-up taking stock of the eyeliners, lipsticks, perfumes and shadows most of which were barely used and discarded since they were past their use. She stopped investing in such frivolities. She only ever touched her body and face lotions. The only self-care she indulged in was the lotions because she could not stand her skin drying and so she fed it regularly with water from the inside and moisturizers from the outside. Once she was done with all the cleaning, purging, organizing she reveled in it. It was cathartic and spiritual, this act. It was her sacred ritual and she felt nourished and fed. But it wasn’t over yet.
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Next, she drowned herself in books and read ferociously. Every word, every precious syllable she hadn’t a chance to spend time with because life, family, everything got in the way. She was lucky sometimes and got to do this at home. Her husband left her to it. It was less expensive than impulsive solo trips to New York or Europe to disconnect and run away from people she knew, from people she had to talk to or be civil or human. She did that too. A stranger can be introverted. There is no need to interact more than necessary. You can choose to stay out of idle chit-chat without worrying about another’s feelings. There was no reasoning and when she got that way, he saw it in her eyes. Resolute, tormented, determined and desperate all in one. There would be no stopping her and he was wise enough to understand that and let her do what she needed to. She always came back recovered, calmer and at peace. He understood the need for solitude as he wasn’t that much different. They needed their space alone as much as they needed each other. They were comfortable in their own skin and cherished it as much or sometimes more than some others company. They could be quiet with each other, read a book in silence. They understood each other’s need for this, for tranquil waters, for steady mountains and languorous breezes amid lush trees, soft doleful music, flickering candle lights, silent shadows and misty moonlight. It stilled the heart and stole back time so you could finally feel alive and just be.
