If I could visit my 15 years' younger self and relate that my all-time favorite wish list header is 20 hours of solitude, past me would be baffled.
Fifteen years ago, I journaled about loneliness, wanting to be known and needed, wanting someone else to care when I walked through the door. Fifteen years ago I didn't know the sharp edge of being needed, how it often morphs into being taken for granted. How the cutting, careless knife of another's need can pare away my privacy and personal space. I don't think past me would have listened, though, let alone understood.
Adding fifteen years has meant adding wisdom about differing dreams for differing stages of life. For now, with demand for solitude far outweighing supply, I crave being alone. I strive for limited input.
My husband and best friend knows me well. I asked for (and immediately got) an afternoon/evening/morning by myself for Mother's Day. I've had multiple meals and bedtime that were choices I made about only one person.
'Tis been bliss.
I go back this morning (motel checkout is in a couple hours), muscles relaxed from weight I got to release for several hours. It's easier to pick it up--easier to WANT to pick it up--after such a gift of grace.
(No, my husband doesn't teach training courses in cherishing, but I think he'd make a killing if he did!)