My mother
was sparing in her advice, but one thing she told me over and over again was
that I needed to learn how to live alone. And now, here I am, in my first
year of retirement, a 67-year-old woman, living alone on sixty acres, in a
house with no neighbors in sight, during a pandemic. Some things have changed
because of my new normal. I notice things and my senses are more attuned.
Perhaps I am embracing more deeply my spiritual side. There is a
stillness here, but it is never quiet. I can go for days without hearing my own
voice, but I am surrounded by bird songs, rustlings in the woods, and the music
of the springtime frogs and insects. I often talk to my animals: two cats, one
dog, ten chickens, and bees. They answer me back in their own way. My visual
sense has also increased. I am comforted by the clouds crossing the blue
sky. The dew shimmers like diamonds reflecting the morning light. The
green of the leaves and grasses holds me captive in silent contemplation. I
know that I find renewal and energy in nature.
My sense of
self has also become more acute. I am aware of my need for connection in
life, not just during this pandemic. Sometimes I search for that by scrolling
through my facebook feed to see what others are doing or by reading online
newspapers incessantly. I want to know that I matter and wonder what I
can do to make things better. I am delighted when a letter arrives from a
former student, a text pops up from a friend, or a Sunday family phone call is
placed. If a glimmer of loneliness arises, I walk outside and look at all the
wonders that surround and accompany me. I comfort myself inside with
sewing and writing projects. I have read so many books. And sometimes I
hop in the car for a ride into the city to see the world.
I have an occasional visitor who will join me for lawn chair
conversations, and I have a friend and her husband who come and help me clear brush. We have worked out a routine where we can stay apart while working outdoors and keep each other company. They love being in the woods, and I have plenty of forest to share.
I enjoy the solitude of living by myself. I feel connected
to the beauty that surrounds me and get excited by the blooming of springtime. I am never truly alone. I watch the male turkeys put on shows for the hens. Deer venture into the yard. I have been taming a feral cat who now lets me pet him. The summer vegetable garden is almost planted.
I feel calm and full and settled. I have arrived at a new
place in life and feel at home in my world. Thank you, Mom. I think
I was able to learn that lesson.
