On Being Boring and Growing Old

My baby brother has been in town quite a bit lately.  Baby?  He's 25, but whatever.  He's hit a rough patch and I'm all too happy that he's able to come and crash in our guest room on the weekends, to find refuge, and talk or not talk, to have time to figure things out.

What's bothering me a little, is how boring my life must seem through his eyes.  He was in town all weekend last weekend.  We ate, we watched TV and movies, I ran a few errands on Saturday.  And by 10:30 on Saturday night, Keith and I were both ready to wind down and get ready for bed.  We have a nightly ritual of reading for a couple of hours, after our TV shows have been watched and before turning in for the day.  And  not having this ritual really throws me off.  So when my brother is staying up watching movies, taking up the corner of the couch that I usually occupy, filling the house with surround sound, I find myself momentarily resenting the intrusion.  And then I think, my God, am I really that old?!?!  And boring?

And the truth is, I am.  I've never really been a super social person.  I don't generally enjoy going out to bars or clubs.  I'm an introvert and I love the quiet life we live.  I love the stillness- the peace between us and around us.  I love that we don't have to be constantly going and doing in order to enjoy ourselves and each other.  The best of our days are made up of quiet moments and a constant steadiness.  We grocery shop, we cook, we spend time with friends, we watch our shows (our shows, even that makes us sound like septuagenarians) and after a long full day's work, that's about all I want or need.  At the end of my day, what I want most is to sit by my man with a book in my hand until I fall asleep on his lap and he puts me to bed.  And I'm satisfied with that.

So compared to my brother, and his tumultuous, passionate life filled with anguish and conflict, Keith and I probably do seem a bit of a yawn.  But we're also the place he retreats to when he needs to rest and refreshment.  And though he may think we're exceedingly dull, I've never heard him complain.  Maybe there's a legitimate need for old and boring in his life.  I like to think so.