the day my friend went off on me

I've had this thought lately and it's become more pervasive in my psyche:

"God, I wish I wasn't doing this alone."

This sleeping alone.
This cooking dinner for myself.
This traveling, eating, gardening, walking, shopping, laughing alone.
This drinking coffee alone, paying rent alone, being responsible alone, sharing burdens alone, worrying alone, planning for a future alone.
This it's-all-up-to-me-to-survive alone.

Truth be told, it gets old after awhile.

This aloneness.

This morning I was talking to a friend as we often do in the morning, either via text or on her back porch after we've busted our asses during an Insanity workout.

She was drinking coffee on her couch; I had just finished my 1.5 mile walk with the dogs and was sitting down to my own cup of coffee. We were talking. Talking about life, about our simple morning routines that make us content.

And then she said:

"Life isn't about filling it with mediocre things...there are so many thing in life that are mediocre. Love should not be one of them. Loving your dogs, morning walks and cups of coffee are from mediocre. That is our happy place. You don't need to "find" someone to be with...when morning walks and coffee are just as important to them, you will feel so complete. When you connect with that person they will be so lucky..."

Her words were the perfect blend to my pervasive private thoughts, because in some concoction of bitter and sweet, sweet and sour, I am in love with the core of my life.

The core, you know. The part of me that revels in silence and regenerates my soul during my morning walks, coffee and dog training. The part that indulges in my independence and selfishly enjoys my own space and having the whole bed to myself.

But I can't deny this other part of me, and it's getting louder.

A friend has told me, "You are alone now because you want to be. And when you decide you don't want to be alone anymore, you won't."

I'm wondering if I'm getting closer. I wonder if he (whoever he is) is getting closer. I wonder if my getting closer and his getting closer will explode in some sort of magnetic energy that rocket launches our paths together.

I've never been much of a romantic, I'm too matter-of-fact for that. Our conversation would probably go something like:

"You like me? Great, I like you too. Let's make a go of it."

And then we would globe trot together, he lucky to have me, and I lucky to have him.

But for now, for tonight, it's me. Me and the dogs. Me and the Cottage.

Just me.