I've always presumed that solace was a solitary thing, perhaps in part due to their similar word structures. But I think it has more to do with the fact that I've always enjoyed being alone. At least, up until recently. It's not that I dislike being alone. It's that I'm alone a lot. Variety is the spice of life, they say, and lately, my life's been a little bland. My days are filled with routines, but not meaningful ones that make the most of my time. If I stopped to calculate what I make of my days, I would probably be very disappointed. Anyone who's been paying attention probably realizes I'm burnt out, and that I probably am in dire need of help and support. Yet, when I enlist that support, I look for every opportunity to turn it away.
Take for example, the fact that I was supposed to invite my mom over to help me tackle the enormous task of tidying up my apartment. The evening before, I had so much anxiety, I could barely sleep. I woke up late the next day, with too little time to make the environment more palatable. I called her to cancel and I decided, instead, to take the opportunity to visit my mom. It was nice, and I think I probably needed it. My mom made meaty spaghetti, with a side of Italian bread. I forgot just how comforting a homecooked meal can be, especially when it is full of a mother's love. I spent some time with my niece, who is always excited to see me. I know I should enjoy it while it lasts, but I've always shied away from that kind of idolatry. My sister probably knows that better than anyone.
We spent the evening playing The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild. My mom's controller is a bit wonky, and both sticks drift excessively, so after a while I got frustrated, and tired, and went home. I think it mostly did me some good, and I realized, sometimes solace can be had in the company of others. It's important to get out every once in a while.