When our daughter Laura was 16 (nearly 20 years ago), she said to me one day, "Linda, it doesn't take much to make you happy. All you need is something to read, something to write, somewhere to walk, and someone to talk to." She was right.
My husband Art is not a talker. When we're at home, or on a quiet vacation, he can sit and read for hours without saying a word. This happened several years ago when we were on a home exchange at Peaks Island, just across the harbor from Portland, Maine. By the 7th day of our stay, I was nearly mad with boredom, and he was entirely content, having read five books.
I had this idea that if I persisted in trying to initiate conversations with Art, one day he'd realize that he was, in fact, an avid conversationalist. That an exchange of dialogue with me was far more interesting than a football game or a murder mystery or repair of the front porch or a nap. I've had this idea for more than 20 years and so far it hasn't happened.
When I quit my last job four years ago, I took up new activities to meet new people and engage my curiosity. I became a mediator and I met with my writers' group and I chatted with my neighbors. It wasn't quite enough. Then we spent a winter in Tucson and it was an answer because I had regular activities and some of them were discussion groups where people talked. Then we spent another winter in Tucson and I met more people. Art met some people too, of course, but he was also free to spend quiet time in our park model, reading or puttering or watching TV. I found that once I had met my social needs, I could leave the man alone and we could enjoy quiet time together as well as occasional conversation. In six weeks we will be leaving for Tucson. I am getting emails from people in our winter community and I'll be glad to see them all.
This summer I joined the Unitarian community. I participate in a few activities and Art does a couple of them with me. I took on a scheduling project for the church photo directory and I had phone conversations with people I hadn't met yet. I'm part of the planning group for the Tiny Houses project.
I spent last weekend at Lavender Hill Farm on Vashon Island with the Vashonistas, a group of women who blog. It was our third year together, and probably not the last. We did a lot of talking and laughing.
I now find that I am getting enough conversation from other people that I relish quiet time as well, and that's a good balance for Art and me.
For the next five days we are in Ocean Park, Washington, in a timeshare condo three blocks from the Pacific Ocean. We got here this afternoon and in four hours we have said relatively little except for a few brief exchanges of mutual interest. So far it feels pretty good.
This conversation thing. It sure took me a long time to figure it out.