The privatesphere – lost journals of a house/parent

 I am not you. Not today.  But If I may – speak for you?There is no easy way to describe feelings of loneliness when everyone knows you share a home with someone. There is no comfortable way to express feelings of emptiness and inadequacy when you are employed by life to guard its greatest miracle. Where does the parent – at – home go to seek purpose and fulfillment? Is it to the kitchen? What does it look like? A baby’s smile? What does it sound like?     A baby’s cry? Is the reward the look on a spouses face when they come through the door? Is the accomplishment in the groans of a satisfying meal?  To whom should they turn to for acknowledgement, justification or confirmation? There is no boss. There is no smiling mother. No friend to cheer. Just the vast chasm of a life poles apart from the one left behind.