I’ve spent far too much time since my divorce nearly a decade ago pondering what it is that I’m seeking in life from a partner. What the “right” relationship will or should look like. How to have realistic expectations without compromising my deepest wishes. Knowing when and how to move on. So many questions and variables and possibilities to consider…
It’s taken a lot of my mental energy, to be honest. Too much.
This past weekend, I took joy in ways not dependent upon having a man, real or imagined, in my life. I stopped thinking about how to reconcile any ideas I may have about a companion and reality, and how they might fit into my future. Projecting into the future was put on the shelf and a moratorium was declared on romantic speculation.
Instead, I inhabited my space fully. It was delightful.
The things that occupied me were simple and satisfying. I cooked, did some cleaning, moved some plants out of Rocco’s reach and got rid of more crap from my kids bedroom as I attempt to morph that space into a workout/guest room. There was a good walk, under a beautiful blue sky with a friend unfamiliar with the magic of the Yellow Brick Road, followed by a simple lunch and, later, a more indulgent dinner. With wine.
At long last, I even took on a household task that I had been dreading for years – with success. It’s done. Closure can feel really good.
No longer perseverating about who I might add to my life feels just as good.
The Saturday mail brought a letter from Ireland that filled my soul. It was from one of my father’s sisters and her words soothed me. I could hear the lilting brogue of her voice as she shared, in writing, her observation that the resemblance between her brother and my son is very strong. As she said, “the genes have come through,” an observation that warms my heart in a way I don’t think I could ever describe or explain.
Despite being nearly 40 years older than I am, she still lives independently. Her health is good. She remains involved in the family business and with her children and grandchildren. Even though she lost her husband far too soon, her life is full and rich.
My aunt said she’s optimistic and hopeful this year will be better than last.
As I sigh with something you might call contentment, or even satisfaction, I am, too.