They're He-ere.

Usually an "ah-ha moment" (is that an Oprah-coined expression?) is one where you come to some great realization that leaves you feeling satisfied and encouraged by newfound information. I had an ah-ha moment, however, that left me feeling a little embarassed (especially since my moment was shared with a good friend) and dare I say, pathetic.

My girlfriend was over for dinner the other night, and we were discussing our mutual feelings of loneliness. I don't mean to be melodramatic or sympathy-seeking here; I have an incredible number of wonderful, caring and thoughtful friends, both in town and throughout the country who I can call anytime. That's not what I mean. I find myself lonely for the adult conversation you might encounter at a workplace. I'm lonely during the day, when my friends are at their office jobs, and I find myself singing children's folk tunes in a never-ending loop because high-pitched silly songs are what keep my little girl entertained. I'm lonely in those few moments right after I leave a friend's house, or a volunteer activity, or when visitors leave my house after a dinner party. I'm lonely when I hang up with Adam right before bedtime. It's just the general knowledge that I'm alone...well, not really alone, as there is Bryony. But, I'm devoid of adult interaction for much of the day and evening, and my house, even in its smallness, seems large and hollow and slightly intimidating when I'm there alone. Particularly at night, when I sometimes get the feeling that I'm NOT alone, when footsteps and creaks and whispers seem to fill the hallways and rooms that are supposed to be unoccupied.

So, while discussing loneliness with my friend, I casually commented that I have started to really depend on NPR during the day to keep me company. I found myself talking, as the realization of what I was saying was still on the horizon. I heard myself say that while driving the other day, I felt a rush of warmth all over my skin when I heard the familiar opening notes for the weekend version of "All Things Considered" and the calming voices of the NPR correspondents. I told my friend that I have come to think of these commentators as my "radio friends." (Poltergeist, anyone?) They are with me all day long, from the time I wake up in the morning till the time I go to bed at night. I never wear out my welcome with them, I can invite them into my home at my discretion, and they are always there when I need them. It's kinda pathetic. My friend's concerned expression as I rambled on about "the people in the radio" made me realize how troubling my revelation must have sounded. Her "Oh, Lauren!" was just the motivation I needed to shut up before I said anything further incriminating about my mental status.

I've been thinking about this thing over the last couple days and have concluded that I can't be the only one who relies on NPR for social entertainment in addition to news updates. After all, our local Michigan station just had a record spring donation drive in the midst of an economic recession. Perhaps many other folks who are laid off from jobs, stay-at-home parents, or for some other reason not at an office job, are donating hard-to-come-by dollars to the station that keeps their, (and my) radio friends on the air, keeping us company 24 hours a day.