A Friendly Face on the Road
Sunset behind The Little House yesterday
There’s a feeling I get on Sunday evenings. It’s a sort of lonely feeling that occurs after I realize that we’re just hours away from a set routine again.
When the alarm goes off on Monday morning, my husband will be gone for most of the waking hours of the week and I’ll be here working and keeping the home fires burning (literally, if it is cold outside) with just the dogs for company.
Yesterday evening felt particularly lonely as we also had to say goodbye to our good friends and neighbors down the road. They’ve become our second family down here.
They still live in Kansas City full time and usually commute down here every other week. However, they have a full family social calendar this fall and will not be back until sometime in December.
We had a really good time meeting their son and daughter-in-law this past weekend and sharing a meal with them on Saturday night. Their home overlooks the lake and provides spectacular views at sunset.
Late yesterday afternoon, Dale and I took the dogs for an off leash romp toward their end of the road, where vacant vacation homes stand overlooking the vast blue waters of Bull Shoals Lake, and met our friends as they were pulling out of their drive. Theirs is the last occupied house at that end and once we pass their driveway, it is very secluded.
Another friend of mine down here has called this area “the loneliest place on earth,” and sometimes it feels that way, particularly when we’re saying goodbye to our dear neighbors, knowing we won’t see them for well over a month.
After bidding them and their dogs a good trip, we continued walking that tree-canopied part of the road, down toward the point, passing the ruins of a long ago burned out house, the sound of leaves crunching under our feet the only thing we could hear.
Maybe it’s looking out onto the water, which extends for miles beyond our cove, maybe it’s the creepy foundation and brick fireplace left standing in those ruins, or just maybe it’s that part of the road reminds me a little of a scene from “The Legends of Sleepy Hollow” book I had as a child.
When we’re at that end of the road, it’s easy to imagine we’re the only people on earth.
Most of the time the seclusion of The Little House is comforting, offering quiet and the freedom from noisy neighbors, sales people and other disruptions found in the city.
However, there’s times like last night when it is just too quiet.
On our way back from our walk yesterday evening, we heard a 4-wheeler approaching. Dale and I looked at each other questioningly and affirming that it was actually someone driving down the road, we each grabbed one of the small dogs and put them on their leashes.
It was a neighbor and his wife from around the bend enjoying an early evening ride on a beautiful Indian Summer Day.
We greeted them, talked about the nice weather and how lucky we were to be in it, and to be here, and my lonely feeling that my mother used to call the “let down,” subsided.
Sometimes you just need to meet a friendly face on the road to put you back on track and make you realize that you’re never really all alone.
Are there times when you feel all alone? What do you do about it?
I feel that way on Sundays too, even though like you, I'm still at home during the week. I used to feel sick to my stomach on Sunday nights as a kid since I dreaded going back to school. Maybe you never really get over that, until you and your spouse are both retired.
I can remember feeling that way on Saturday nights as a kid, as my dad was usually home during the day on Saturdays, but had to return to work on Saturday nights.
I also felt a much worse feeling on Sunday nights when I worked in the corporate world. Sick to my stomach is an understatement.
For sure and I think it's a completely normal feeling.
If I'm feeling lonely, I talk to my partner, go to a yoga class or for a walk. I think the internet helps too. I've found that my blog is a great way to connect with other folks. Writing always helps.
I talk to the dogs, Tammy, but they don't answer.
You're right, walks, the internet and especially writing helps a lot!
We call that feeling the Sunday Sads. It's a hold-over from the early years of our long distance relationship, when I would head back to school on Sundays.
I've had a lot of out-of-the-house time these last couple months, with everything that's been going on, so it'll be interesting to see how I settle back onto the hermit-like winters up here.
I love that, Roxanne — The Sunday Sads. Exactly.
Networks are wonderful, Kent. I'm attempting to start to teach classes again, hopefully out of my writer's studio. That should put me in touch with a network of like-minded folks.
We will hopefully be building a house on our land in the next year or so. We do have friends and family that live near there, but I sometimes wonder if I will miss the daily activity and sight of people that is part of life in the suburbs.Our new house will be on our own private road. People will not be driving by unless they're lost. I know what you mean about loving the privacy and seclusion, but still wanting to feel connected to others and have interaction with neighbors. Ultimately, we have decided that life in the country is worth sacrifices, even if it means less contact with the outside world, but I can imagine myself feeling as you do at times, a little lonely and isolated. Hopefully, there will be enough friendly faces on the road to provide a shot of social interaction now and then. And– thank goodness for the internet! I will at least be able to stay in contact with good friends like you, through cyberspace. I am hoping you and Dale and all your critters have a cozy, safe winter– no more power outages!
Thanks, Kathy. The Internet does help. Although I worked from home in the city too, it's amazing still how much contact you have with people. Meeting the neighbor when we both went out for the newspaper at 4:30 a.m., saying "Hello," or waving to a neighbor while picking up the mail. Of course, I got out a lot more often there. I had the KC Press Club and all of the writer's activities I just don't have here. It's a day trip just to plan to go to town. Not complaining, but it is a different way of life and it is a bit isolating at times.
Hi Kerri, I can relate to that feeling sense I have been working at home. Without the social contact of co-workers it can be a let down at time. Fortunately I have developed a small network of like minded friends that I either get together every once in a while or a least talk on the phone. This is eases the cabin fever feeling that pulls me down.