I suppose I’ll post this if only because blogs that are happy all the time don’t ring true to me.
Today is a bad day, the culmination of all the frustrations in my life over the past year.
Twelve days ago I picked up some flowers and a slice of cake to celebrate my grandma’s 79th birthday. She has advanced Alzheimer’s disease but we ate the chocolate and chatted, she giggled like a school girl and had the peace of genuine happiness about her. I found myself hoping the later years of my life would be suppounded by such peace and love.
Today I was in the same grocery store picking up the same cake for myself, refusing to give into the self-pity of being alone. That didn’t really work. I couldn’t sing to myself or even blow out my candles and the cake, along with my Kahlua, is untouched.
I woke up alone, I worked alone, I ate lunch alone, went to the bookstore alone and had dinner alone. I will go to bed alone tonight. In the past I’ve felt a certain pride in being independent, taking care of myself and mine. But on days like today I wish there were someone else here for me.