I wonder who I am. Seriously. My driver's license tells my name, address, height and weight. yes brown. Hair - no longer brown. Height 2 inches shorter. Weight..top secret.
I used to be a wife. Thankfully I am still a mother, grandmother, great grandmother, mother-in-law and friend. I have all the creature comforts I need. My driver's license is still valid. My Toyota still hums along. So do my cats. But I am learning the difference between a solitary life and a lonely life.
I grew up as an only child. Talk about lonely. But I had friends and cousins and a close neighborhood made up of Irish and Italian immigrants and their kids and we all got along. My father, the gambler, held dice games in our basement and the local Irish cop next door managed to swing by to accept favors. The corner tavern was the place to get a bucket of beer and my maternal grandmother lived across the street from the house we lived in, owned by my paternal grandparents.
My parents argued over his gambling and the house became silent. I longed for a pet to cuddle but my mother was too fastidious to allow furry critters in the house. My parents loved me, were affectionate and kind but not so much with each other. It wa an uneasy childhood. I cherished my friends, my surrogate siblings.
Lonely is worse than just being alone, so Now What? Back to writing, journaling, blogging - all solitary pursuits. I socialize, belong to church groups, But there are periods when I miss Des so much, my eyes dampen, especially evenings when the house is quiet and my cats stare at me and we all wonder where that guy is, the one who gave great hugs, and loved us unconditionally.
I need to try new pursuits, distract me from the past, but still savor my memories---the good ones mostly. Never an outdoor gal, I contemplate the back yard with the swing Des built for me. Consider the octangular raised bed waiting to get attention. On my new to-do list, but hardly a bucket list.
About that bucket list, my dream to visit Italy someday is becoming more possible. I have perfect travel companions more than willing to go and July is the target month. If finances and decent health will make it so, I had better drag out my Italian Language books. My grandparents will be dancing in their graves. My Irish husband will raise a heavenly eyebrow. But he got to Ireland and kissed the barney stone. I may get to walk in Rome and get pinched by a roving Italian. Who Knows?
Certainly not Sassy
