I am bored.
I am in the study in the twilight hours. A patch of time after the madness of evening homework, showers and feeding ravenous children. Dinner prep is on the cards. I sink into the chair that has molded itself to my form over the years. My feet sigh with relief as I take my weight off it. I should be content with aimlessly browsing Twitter or scrolling through FB feeds. I long to connect, to chat, to be heard.
There is a long list of people online at any given time. The mouse hovers over each name and passes on. I pull up my email inbox and feel disheartened at the impersonal nature of senders staring at me. It is too early to call Amma in India.
Over the years, I have given up on the kind of relationships I spent time and effort in nurturing. The kind of friendships that involved a volley of communication. Sharing and hearing. Laughing and comforting. Being there and being seen.
Raising a family is a full-time job, one that precludes the kind of time I could once make. I am wistful for times past, for the people in my past.
I ache for soul quenching companionship. The kind that hears without being spoken to, that reaches out without being asked to. I know I am looking for unicorns.
Like I said, I am bored.