lonesome

I've been feeling a little lonely lately. You needn't, however, feel sorry for me. Lonely isn't always a sorrowful thing. Sometimes it is cleansing, like a fall rain, or waking up in the middle of the night under the stars. Sometimes loneliness means pulling out the ukulele and learning the tabs to The Cure's Friday I'm in Love and singing it in a room with your baby, even when you know you are terribly off key, because you wouldn't have the courage to do this without lonelinesses prompting. Sometimes it means that you speak spanish in a terrible American accent and pretend your baby is soaking it in or listen to every story on the Moth podcast, just to feel like your house is full of voices. You step back, and into the shoes of all the other people in the world who must have at one time or another, also have been a little bit alone, and then you realize you have good company. Sometimes, in loneliness, you talk to God a little more, are happy to put on mascara and not leave the house, wonder who you will meet. I know this time won't last, and again, this isn't a pity party, I don't feel put upon. I have a dear little companion by my side who bites the ends of my hair and eats popsicles like a maniac in his high chair. There is happiness hidden in change.


Maybe this guy is lonely too. We should be friends.