Living alone with
Living alone with only a stone-deaf dog for company after my sons have grown and gone means…
- Hugging my battered teddy bear, Silas, ever more tightly every night in bed
- Coming home to a silent but excited dog, and otherwise mute, dark rooms
- Eating ice cream directly from the carton if I want to
- Leaving my stuff all over the place even though it looks a mess and I don’t like that – after all, it’s my mess
- Selecting the movies I want to watch
- Sometimes drinking a little bit too much wine all by myself
- Knowing that something will be where I left it, wherever that was
- Crying out of loneliness
- Getting irritated when the only phone call I get is in the middle of the only one-hour TV show I have planned to watch (probably Law & Order) and I don’t have TiVo
- Talking to myself just a little bit too much
- Wishing the neighbors would say hello
- Wishing the neighbors would leave me alone and not talk to me
- Walking around naked or half-clothed when I feel like it
- Calling my sons and leaving messages when their cell phones are off
- Dropping everything, regardless of what it is, when a son calls – and they are both welcome to call in the middle of Law & Order
- Going to the movies on my own and really rather enjoying it
- Planning my weekends the way I want to
- Not worrying about where anyone is at midnight or later
- Being solely responsible for letting the dog out and walking her, when I work long hours 25 miles away via congested freeways
- Wondering what there is left to live for
- Taking long, solitary, uplifting hikes in the hills – when I have time
- Worrying, worrying, worrying about money
- Spending altogether too much time in front of the computer
- Using the microwave altogether too frequently
- Not having to think about what to prepare for dinner
- Missing my sons
- Missing the companionship of a life partner and wondering whether there will ever be one at this point
- Making life decisions on my own
- Being able to stay put in bed in the middle of the night if I have a coughing fit
- Having my bathroom just for me, with no chance of a boy needing to use it
- Surreptitiously (or so I hope) checking the ring finger of the rare man I encounter with whom I enjoy conversing
- Not having to inform anyone of where I am going or when I will return
- Wondering, wondering what the future will bring
posted by Vicky | 9:41 PM
20 Comments:
Wow, that was quick, Theresa! I was still editing it! Thank you, my dear. Thank you, for the compliment.
Vicky, what a superb list poem. I love the combination of advantages and disadvantages of living alone.
Oops! Did I jump the gun? Yes, I like your reformatting idea. This is a wonderful poem, Vicky. This is going to lead to great things: I know it will. This is the kind of writing you need to be doing. Very gut-level, honest, powerful writing. Good for you. I am very proud of you.
Vicky--this list is so fabulous! I not only imagined but actually FELT parts of this list as I read through it. You've inspired me to try a similar stream-of-conscious list as a writing project this evening.
I'd love to know what kind of dog you have!
Erin: My dog is a Belgian Sheepdog and she is 14 years old. her name is Zelda and she is the sweetest dog you could ever meet. I don't remember the last time I heard her growl. She'll lick you to death - though her breath stinks, so death is likely to be due to suffocation!
Thank you for the compliments, ladies. Talk about revealing one's vulnerability!
V
We have an old cat whose breath is so smelly! I can't stand for him to lick himself when he's on my lap: his breath smells like a moldy dishrag! Poor old thing: I love him but he's got to lick himself elsewhere. When he's on my lap, he keeps his mouth shut! (He's very, very old). Vicky, did posting the poem really make you feel vulnerable?
Yes, Theresa, it did, it really did. But also somehow cleansing.
Hello!
I am very glad that you started this blog...your voice is so clear and witty. You are the Vicky that always leaves comments in Paula & Theresa's places, right?
Love the list.
Being alone means starting to have time to figure out who we are and what we think, without someone asking what's for dinner ;-) and WHAT TIME IS DINNER --Beth
Hi, Christina - welcome - and thank you!
Yes, that would be me - one and the same.
Vicky
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Beth, THERE you are - with a picture!! How cute you are!!
And yessss, the dinner thing is blisssss
V
Oh, Vicky, this is so brave and bold and heartaching all at the same time.
OH, that mothers and sons thing.
It about kills me if I think about it.
Found you through gannetgirl and just want to leave this little note of encouragement. I enjoy open, honest writing so much. I look forward to reading more.
Vicky--your dog sounds wonderful! I so miss having a "real" pet (not to say my goldfish aren't real, but I certainly can't pet them!).
Hugs from another loner!
V
Hi, Vicky, I have noticed your comments on Theresa's blog, but only came over here tonight, and find I could have written most of that post. My son is in his second year away at college, and I am settling into that Living Alone pattern, too. I even share my home with a 14-year old dog, beloved Trixie, Yorkshire terrier, and now profoundly deaf, too! Just wanted to say hello, Know what that feels like, and see you later.
My stuffed dog is named Dog. I come home to two casually placed kitties. No ice cream we're on a diet. My favorite trick is to leave my work clothes on the back of the couch. Not much time for movies or wine, but I do appreciate things not being moved. I am crying because my therapist has to cut down our time 75%. Law and Order is the only show I'll watch if I were to watch. If you talk to the dog, it doesn't count toward talking so much to yourself. We like to throw around the word, "Damm." We like the neighbors not to talk to us ... or swear! Sometimes I get naked for hours/days before I realize I've caught a chill. I refuse to call my three sons. Took out the phone actually. They know where I am on the computer at all times. I love my weekends I don't worry the midnight hour. I think the kitties think that their only purpose is to push me out the door so I can bring home the kitty food. I'm just learning to walk more now and use the microwave. Money is a chronic problem. We're working on our dinner plan. I miss the little guys that were my sons. They as an older set have other priorities. *Sigh* I'm sorry you've lost your companionship. I've got a few friends and therapist I talk to about the big decisions. I cough without covering my mouth sometimes and I never shut the bathroom door *giggle* I've got a pretty good friendship with a guy I adore … and some wonderful folks here on line. YEEKS another ring … NEVER AGAIN! Well here ya go … your future crossed our future!
I enjoyed tremendously reading your list. You sound a lot like me.
:) Ayn
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