Home Alone (January 2018)
It’s been two days.
"Home Alone."
Last Saturday morning, my youngest son left, and by the afternoon, my eldest son was off to London.
My eldest had planned to complete his final semester of law school in London.
He left early to settle in and make preparations, and my youngest son, who is currently on vacation, joined him.
Together, they planned to travel through several European cities before the semester begins.
Once the trip is over, the eldest will stay in London until May when the semester ends,
and the youngest will return to Belgium and then head back to his base in South Carolina.
But then, out of the blue, my wife decided to join their plans.
Why?
I don’t know. I don’t even bother to ask.
After all, I’m not in a position to question the supreme authority of our household.
I simply observe from a distance, knowing it’s not my place to interfere.
How could a mere sparrow understand the grand plans of a phoenix?
I trust there must be some profound and significant reason behind her decision and keep my thoughts to myself.
That said, she might have felt a tinge of guilt or pity for the one left behind — me. Last Sunday, she subtly proposed a deal:
“There’s one last plane ticket to Paris. Should we buy it?”
I do enjoy traveling and having fun, but I firmly declined.
Why?
There wasn’t a particularly compelling reason.
But if I had to come up with one, it would be this: occasionally, I feel the need to show that I’m not an “easy man.”
(Of course, I regret it now. Life is more fun when you’re an easygoing person.)
Eventually, on Monday evening, my wife left for London.
Now, I’m on day two of my single life, embracing it with reverence.
The most inconvenient part of living alone is undoubtedly preparing three meals a day.
Breakfast is usually a breeze since I just have cereal and nuts. No cooking required, no problem.
But lunch and dinner are a different story.
For someone like me, who lacks both skill and passion for cooking, it’s a considerable burden.
If I were in Korea, I’d be spoiled for choice with restaurants and food stalls just outside the door.
But here, it’s a different story.
Nowadays, my wife doesn’t bother preparing meals for me before she leaves.
She departs freely, almost nonchalantly.
Occasionally, she justifies this lack of preparation with ambiguous remarks like, “You’ve grown up a lot.”
I suppose it’s her way of saying, “You can take care of yourself now.”
Without the stress of cooking, single life could actually be enjoyable.
Coming home, I can toss my shoes anywhere without anyone complaining.
That kind of freedom is priceless.
Even though there’s a house rule about brushing teeth before washing my face, with my wife away, I can reverse the order and face no consequences.
It’s one of the small joys of single life.
I can listen to music or watch a movie alone without interruptions or interference, which is a real blessing.
Last night, I watched 'Beauty and the Beast', starring the lovely Emma Watson, in one sitting without even standing up.
(Usually, I can’t fully enjoy movies because I’m on edge, wondering when my wife might call me.)
But this freedom starts to feel hollow after three or four days. The spacious liberty becomes hard to embrace.
No wonder Erich Fromm, the famous sociologist, wrote a book titled 'Escape from Freedom'.
When we lack freedom, we yearn for it. But once it’s handed to us, we often don’t know what to do with it, longing instead to escape from that very freedom.
Life seems to work that way, especially marriage.
Marriage is like a three-legged race, where two people voluntarily (this is very important) tie one leg together and run.
By doing so, they willingly surrender part of their freedom.
But as they match their pace and align their hearts, they can encourage each other and embark on a beautiful journey together.
A solo performance is beautiful, but a duet can be equally — if not more — captivating.
Tonight, after finishing my work and cooking dinner, I plan to listen to a duet by Itzhak Perlman and John Williams performing a piece by Paganini.
Perlman plays the violin, and Williams plays the guitar.
Although they perform different melodies, their combined harmonies create a joy that is one of life’s rare delights.
While my wife is away, I will fully enjoy this freedom.
I won’t try to escape from it but will actively embrace it.
When she returns, I will voluntarily tie one leg to hers again.
Life, it seems, requires practice.
To find happiness in any situation.
Today, I’ll cook my meals and savor my freedom once more.
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