When I first divorced I often said that being single in the suburbs was like being married without a husband. I still fretted over the state of the local school district, went shopping for groceries on the weekends and took long walks in the evening with my dog. It is not like a city life filled with hot new bars and restaurants. The most exciting thing that could happen was the opening of a new supermarket.
Then one day my boyfriend Greg and I decided to live together. It was during this time I realized just how un-married I had become. For four years before the “move-in” I came and went as I pleased. I kept my closet rigidly neat or threw my clothes on the floor. I could eat cereal and drink wine for dinner. I spent countless Sundays curled up in a ball re-reading my favorite books while reruns of Sex and The City blared in the background. I was responsible for myself, my dog and the bills. That was all about to change.
It was a humid August night when Greg schlepped his belongings from Bucks County PA to my home in South Jersey. Since he had sold all his furniture and did not need my help. I went to a friend’s house to give Greg space. I was driving home at 9pm and my cell phone rang “Hey are you coming home?” Greg said. “Almost there,” I cheerfully replied. As I hung up the phone I could not help feeling, well a knot in my stomach. See only my closest friends really know what a loner I am. Everyone else sees me as outgoing and funny. The one in the group that really loves the company of others.
That is not me. My favorite moments are waking up with nothing to do. I love sitting in solitude, petting the dog and reading the paper while coffee brews. As an only child and an adopted one at that, silence does not put me on edge. Rather silence soothes me and gives me time to deal with my own thoughts.
As I pulled up to my, I mean our, condo I noted his car in the assigned spot that until that moment had always belonged to me. As I stepped inside, I saw immediately that he had worked hard getting his things in order, but the small condo seemed to have shrunk within a few hours. I kissed him and welcomed him home. Yet my inner voice screamed “WHAT ARE YOU DOING?”
Days turned into weeks in our little, wait make that tiny abode. I called to check in. I tried and failed at making room in my closet. I forgot what silence felt like. We cooked together, shopped together and laughed together. My only alone time seemed to be in the earliest hours on a Sunday before Greg awakened. I selfishly complained inwardly about my lack of time. I also lie awake in fear most nights. What if this doesn’t work? What if he leaves? Why did I ever leave myself open for another huge rejection?
I lamented the end of romance. Why would he need to woo me now? Every cohabitating couple I knew joked about the end of romance, but as a writer and a romantic at heart, I knew I would desperately miss the Greg who danced with me in the living room and brought me flowers for no reason.
Then one night I was out and about with my friends and the strangest thing happened. I told a joke and immediately thought how funny Greg would think it was. Then it happened, I missed him. It was a pang that hit me so hard that it nearly knocked me over. I was physically present for the rest of the night, but my heart – my heart was at home curled up in a ball with Greg.
I pulled up to our condo later that evening and noted that he had left the space open for me and the outdoor light on. I walked in to find him sleeping on the couch. I gently touched his face and whispered that I was back. I looked around to see that while I was out having fun. Greg had put together shelving that now contained our CDs and DVDs. He had managed to empty all his remaining “move-in” boxes and suddenly the condo felt less cluttered and looked so beautiful to my eyes that had finally opened.
It was then I saw it. Sitting on the dining room table. He had bought me flowers and carefully arranged them in a vase. He has bought me flowers for no reason except that he had missed me too.
“Hey, you are finally home,” I heard Greg’s sleepy voice call from the couch. Yes honey, I am most definitely home.
Then one day my boyfriend Greg and I decided to live together. It was during this time I realized just how un-married I had become. For four years before the “move-in” I came and went as I pleased. I kept my closet rigidly neat or threw my clothes on the floor. I could eat cereal and drink wine for dinner. I spent countless Sundays curled up in a ball re-reading my favorite books while reruns of Sex and The City blared in the background. I was responsible for myself, my dog and the bills. That was all about to change.
It was a humid August night when Greg schlepped his belongings from Bucks County PA to my home in South Jersey. Since he had sold all his furniture and did not need my help. I went to a friend’s house to give Greg space. I was driving home at 9pm and my cell phone rang “Hey are you coming home?” Greg said. “Almost there,” I cheerfully replied. As I hung up the phone I could not help feeling, well a knot in my stomach. See only my closest friends really know what a loner I am. Everyone else sees me as outgoing and funny. The one in the group that really loves the company of others.
That is not me. My favorite moments are waking up with nothing to do. I love sitting in solitude, petting the dog and reading the paper while coffee brews. As an only child and an adopted one at that, silence does not put me on edge. Rather silence soothes me and gives me time to deal with my own thoughts.
As I pulled up to my, I mean our, condo I noted his car in the assigned spot that until that moment had always belonged to me. As I stepped inside, I saw immediately that he had worked hard getting his things in order, but the small condo seemed to have shrunk within a few hours. I kissed him and welcomed him home. Yet my inner voice screamed “WHAT ARE YOU DOING?”
Days turned into weeks in our little, wait make that tiny abode. I called to check in. I tried and failed at making room in my closet. I forgot what silence felt like. We cooked together, shopped together and laughed together. My only alone time seemed to be in the earliest hours on a Sunday before Greg awakened. I selfishly complained inwardly about my lack of time. I also lie awake in fear most nights. What if this doesn’t work? What if he leaves? Why did I ever leave myself open for another huge rejection?
I lamented the end of romance. Why would he need to woo me now? Every cohabitating couple I knew joked about the end of romance, but as a writer and a romantic at heart, I knew I would desperately miss the Greg who danced with me in the living room and brought me flowers for no reason.
Then one night I was out and about with my friends and the strangest thing happened. I told a joke and immediately thought how funny Greg would think it was. Then it happened, I missed him. It was a pang that hit me so hard that it nearly knocked me over. I was physically present for the rest of the night, but my heart – my heart was at home curled up in a ball with Greg.
I pulled up to our condo later that evening and noted that he had left the space open for me and the outdoor light on. I walked in to find him sleeping on the couch. I gently touched his face and whispered that I was back. I looked around to see that while I was out having fun. Greg had put together shelving that now contained our CDs and DVDs. He had managed to empty all his remaining “move-in” boxes and suddenly the condo felt less cluttered and looked so beautiful to my eyes that had finally opened.
It was then I saw it. Sitting on the dining room table. He had bought me flowers and carefully arranged them in a vase. He has bought me flowers for no reason except that he had missed me too.
“Hey, you are finally home,” I heard Greg’s sleepy voice call from the couch. Yes honey, I am most definitely home.
Hun that is beautiful. Your descriptions will make people feel like they were actually in the living room with us! You got talent baby!
ReplyDeleteYou know, in almost 2o years of friendship I have never read anything you wrote before. You really don't suck, not even a little.
ReplyDeleteAnother beautiful article - I am so happy for you and Greg. You are a terrific writer!!! I have tears in my eyes. Someday you will publish a book and I can't wait to be one of the first people to buy it!!!
ReplyDelete