photo courtesy of  Donna Morton, my fabulous photographer cousin

I am an only child.  Despite the fact that I consider this a hardship that I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy, I do believe that I garnered many skills from having to spend so much time, alone, with my thoughts, growing up.  A lot of my creativity comes from hours spent frolicking about my apartment complex, in Hyattsville, Maryland, where I spent the majority of my youth, engaged in conversations with imaginary friends, and roll playing, with myself, all sorts of dramatic scenarios (surviving plane crashes, rescuing the hostages from the embassy in Iran...).  When I lay with my children, at night, and they ask me to tell them a story about when I was growing up, my mind nearly always goes back to the mulberry tree, on Nicholson Street, that I would climb with my best friend, then alone, when she was gone.  I would pass many an hour, up in those branches, eating the berries, and enjoying the silence, and my thoughts.

Research, just released, suggests that there are many benefits, both intellectually, and psychologically, for healthy alone time.  In our Western culture, where children are constantly kept busy, being shuffled from one organized activity to the next, we would do well to ponder all that we are robbing them of, when they are never alone.  You can read the article, from the Boston Globe, that sparked my thoughts on this topic, here.

I think I could use some alone time right about now.   Seth spent half the night, laying next to me, in bed,  holding my hair (which he does for comfort), then I was awakened by my overly gleeful eight year-old son, Benjamin, at 6am, who wanted to know if we had any spare Chuck E. Cheese coins, laying around, that he could take to a birthday party that  he is going to today.  Now, as I'm writing this, all four of my kids are singing, at the top of their lungs, "Crazy In Love" by Jay Z, as they stomp around the house like wild animals.

Yes, some alone time, in a mulberry tree, would be good.