For financial reasons, over the years since my divorce, I’ve lived with people to help offset household costs. My tenants have usually been in transition, making their home with me for several weeks to several months before moving out and on. I get the best of both worlds, their company and financial help for a period of time then, when they’re gone, the quiet and solitude of living alone.
I’m sharing my home with someone now and have been for the last two years. It’s given me some financial freedom, allowing me to travel more and enjoy life more. She’s quiet and respectful and we give each other space; she’s a dream tenant and when I sit quietly for a few minutes and give thanks as part of my morning routine I make sure I include her in my list. She’s been on vacation for the last week and won’t be home for another week; I’m alone in my house.
I love being alone here, living alone. I am never lonely, scared, nervous; I am happy, satisfied, content. Occasionally I worry about this, wonder if I’ll end up being one of those woman who live alone, adopting every stray cat that wanders by until I have a houseful. I wonder if I’ll get set in my ways, as they say, unable to share shelf space or break bread at my kitchen table with another person. I’m not even getting close to either of these scenarios but I’d be lying if I said the thoughts never crossed my mind. After Bill and I vacationed in Italy for two weeks spending all of our time together and with 40 other people I had the thought: “Yup, I’m going to be one of those women.” Once back on home turf I recovered quickly.
I’m generally busy so when I get home I relish the quiet. I may watch some bad TV, write a blog post, surf the net or read a book but all of those activities help me recharge. I’m not interacting with anyone, rarely talk on the phone except to say good night to Bill when we’re not together.
Speaking of Bill; the end goal is the two of us living under the same roof, the space still not determined. It will be nice not having to figure out when we’re going to ride again and making sure the bikes, shoes and helmets are in the right garage. It’ll be nice not having to remember to carry my glasses with me so I can see at the end of the day when my contacts come out. Even then, as nice as the thought of sharing a space together is, I’ll probably need to be alone sometimes. I think Bill has figured this out about me, don’t think this will come as a surprise; even now I’ll go up to bed before him so I can read a few pages or check my email or just be quiet.
As I pad around the house from living room to kitchen back to living room before eventually making my way up to bed, I’ll soak in the solitude. The rest will fall into place.
Categories: Home, Musings, Uncategorized
where my feet are 
I agree, alone does not equal lonely. Lonely is having a love physically present, but not “present” or “emotionally available.” Glad those days are long gone!