Isolation is not exactly what I pictured for my life years ago. Although I enjoy my anonymity, recently my life often seems to consist of snippets of information as I carry my children from one activity to another, and rarely anything that might resemble a meaningful conversation. I remember growing up in the 60's, and looking at the women's magazines at my aunt's house on Sunday afternoons when there was little else to do. It seemed the whole world was having interesting parties, barbeques, and get togethers with neighbors. It looked so intriguing and glamorous in the glossy pages printed with modern colors that I could only dream of on her cold, pleather sofa. Yet here we were, suspended in a limbo of boredom.
Now that I have relocated 2500 miles from "home", I find myself again suspended in that limbo. My attempts at conversation frequently fall on the ears of others as though I were speaking a foreign language. Last night I managed to have only the second real conversation with someone outside my family since I moved here. It was nice to feel a little connected to this part of the world.
If only for a moment.
