**written last night, my last night living solo, before moving in with the man I was meant to meet**
I am trying to think back to my first night living solo after my ex-husband told me he wanted a divorce, almost three years ago now. Funny how the details feel so fuzzy that I can’t even remember the exact date. I just know it was around October 31, 2008.
I remember feeling alone. Scared. Really scared. Worried about my future, financially, emotionally, mentally. I wondered if my heart could handle the pain, the heartbreak, the physical feeling that someone was sitting on my chest, crushing my heart with every passing moment.
I remember learning to embrace living alone (once I moved into my first apartment by myself). Enjoying an evening where I don’t speak a word to anyone else for the entire night…except to my cats. (don’t laugh!) Enjoying a glass of wine while catching up on DVR. Or reading a book. Just being alone and enjoying it.
Fast forward to tonight?
I am embracing being alone this evening, finishing packing a few last minute things, getting my Food Network fix (though M automatically turns this channel on for me already when I visit his place, I guess my habits are evident!), enjoying that solo glass of wine and not speaking to a soul. Kitties by my side. Warm breeze through the window. Quiet. Calm. Happy.
But as much as I am enjoying this evening, embracing my last night living alone, I am practically jumping out of my skin excited to live with M. See him everyday. Touch him every day. Tell him face to face how much I love him. Make him lunch (yes, make him lunch), and make dinners together. Laugh. Embrace. Kiss. Re-learn what it’s like to co-habitate. (I know it won’t be all puppies and rainbows as we adjust to each others’ habits, but I am almost equally as excited at that prospect…a new growth phase for both of us).
It’s my last night living alone.
And I couldn’t be happier with what’s to come. To the next phase of this beautiful life I have created for myself. Cheers to that.