On My Own
I have been alone for two years now. Initially the flavor was a taste of sweet, blissful freedom. No longer confined to the constraints of an unhappy marriage, I truly felt that I was ready to soar. It was bittersweet, in that the most important person in my life, my hero, my father, passed away the same week that I asserted my freedom, but I no longer felt that I was suffocated by the constant bickering and fighting that was the hallmark of my 17 years of marriage. Soon thereafter I began to suffocate, once again. The air in the house was full of bad memories. The community in which I lived was stifling me. I needed a change. I moved to a new community. I sold my huge beautiful home and moved into a tiny one bedroom apartment. I was pleased with my decision. My new living space was cramped, but it was all mine. It was a blank space with no memories of my former misery. A year ago...