This is not a post about loneliness

I’m one of those people who often finds it hard to be alone, but I think this summer I’ve been learning how to appreciate myself and those I’m missing more in moments of solitude. Writing is how I’ve become friends with me.

 

Taking myself on a date

Tomorrow morning I’ll vacate my dimpled couch

turning to straighten the pillows before I leave,

lock the door with a left turn

and toss my keys into the bag on my shoulder.

When I enter the outside the first thing

I’ll do is take a breath of summer air.

The sun will already have soaked the sidewalk.

As I make my way toward my four-wheeled companion

I’ll remember

I need my keys to drive,

tug on the lanyard that holds them,

seek them out among the few bits of treasured junk,

things that carry memories with them everywhere,

even just to get groceries on a Saturday morning.

I don’t have to be reminded of you,

not in that aha! way one remembers the formula

for a circle’s circumference.

You’re there in every moment. Like the glasses on my face

that somehow get filtered out of my vision

when my brain sees more important things.

But when I think about it, as I often do,

I count myself blessed

for the miracle of seeing leaves on the trees,

so often taken for granted