A Windy November Sunday Afternoon

It's another Sunday afternoon . . .

Part of me wants to whirl in and get LOTS accomplished.

Part of me wants nothing more than to curl up in the recliner – listen/watch some old sitcom I have seen a hundred times so I don’t have to think. Play a few rounds of the games on my phone. Maybe grab a type of nap even.

Loneliness creeps in –

*There are moments when it seems to be a living and breathing entity – just not one that I can see, touch, or get rid of.

Kind of like the wind blowing outside, strong today, disturbing Gracie’s naps – just enough to make her think someone is here, so she comes awake barking and growling.

We go to the door, again, open it so she can see – no one is here.

She sniffs her way back around the room until she is satisfied – for a few minutes, until another gust of wind knocks.

*There are moments when it seems to be standing off on the sidelines taunting me, tormenting me to distraction.

"You cannot do this life alone!"

"You are very much alone! How does it feel?”

“Are you sure you haven’t done something to drive everyone away from you?”

“You are not worth a visit, a phone call, even a message!”

Lies.

All lies.

The lies of abandonment and being left behind.

*There are moments when it almost seems like, dare I say it?

An old familiar companion.

I can’t admit it as a friend, but a companion that has learned to keep its place - during the week at least.

Coming out and poking, prodding, my mind & heart late at night in the dark, or on Sunday afternoons.

I can only fight it so long, and so hard.

Strange that fighting it seems to give it strength and power over me.

And accepting it, seems to quiet it.

Shouldn’t that be just the opposite?

Guess that’s another reason this widow’s life is not easy to navigate.

What ought to be, isn’t.

What shouldn’t be, is.

A vicious cycle that never is broken.

It pauses every so often, letting me catch a whiff, a glimpse, a faint smell, of a different life.

But then, the cycle repeats itself.

Giving me no option but to ride the tide – ebbing and flowing.

Always with the faintest hope that loneliness will decide this is not a welcoming place and just leave me alone.

Ironic, huh?

To be alone and to know loneliness – 2 entirely different parts of this life now.

{©Margaret McCoy, on a windy November Sunday.}