William Carlos Williams got it
I’m alone! I’m alone — it’s ten to four in the afternoon and I’m all beautifully, gloriously, headily, quietly alone for the next fifteen minutes. The house is mine. I can do what I like (even if I’m supposed to be doing laundry or dishes). I can yell really loudly, but I don’t want to. I like the quiet. I am not alone enough. And soon they will all come crashing through the door, vibrating with wants and emotions and voices and arms and the house will swell with the lives that are packed into it and that will be good too. But right now in the pause before the hurricane, who shall say I am not the happy genius of my household?
Of course, I’m not male or naked or waving a shirt and I have no nanny, sleeping or otherwise, named Kathleen or otherwise, it’s not dawn and I’m in the south room. But the feeling is the same.
