A Quiet, Empty House

Which comes first, the title or the content?  That has nothing to do with this post, it's just something I was thinking about before starting to write.  In this case I am writing first.  The title will have to reveal itself when I get to the end. 

I have been obsessively watching a TV show on netflix.  I think I will continue to watch until I get every bit of wisdom and help I can get out of it.  It may seem funny to look for direction that way, but this show seems to touch me and my hopes, my dreams, and my past in a way that makes sense and shows me a way to go.

Everyone left for the afternoon.  Dad drove the gang to Boston where one kid lives, one is visiting friends and I am left with a quiet, empty house.  It's nice.  These days I am more sensitive to criticism than I have been since I lived with my parents.  I need these respites from people who love me, want only the best for me, but have definite opinions of what I should and shouldn't do.

I'm not saying they aren't right in their opinions.  It's just easier to watch this funny, quirky, sweet TV show and see if I can't find the impetus to move where I need to move.  It's easier to watch characters dealing with issues similar to mine.  Unlike me, they have writers to give them their lines.  And even when the characters appear tongue-tied or angry or sad or any other emotion that mimics what I am feeling, they manage to say things that are poignant or witty or endearing.  I try to talk all this stuff out, but it always sounds so much better in my head.  A staff of writers would be such an improvement!

Slowly I am finding hope.  A sense that I can be happy.  That I can be loving and caring and not at the effect of either past events or stuff.  It still feels like I have a way to go, but it also feels like I am walking toward the light at the end of the tunnel and not into the deep dark cave.

So what will I call this post?  Hope?  Peace?  Guess I'll just name it for what surrounds me right now.