I didn't

JIMMIE DURHAM
The flower of the death of loneliness

This morning the light was all shiny in my apartment. The place felt like home. I made coffee and sat on my couch and looked around. Saturday. I didn't have a plan. I could do whatever I wanted. Whenever I wanted. I read. I made breakfast. I debated going to the gym. I did some dishes. I watered the plants. I stayed in the same clothes in which I had slept.

I felt content.
In the way a woman who can do whatever she wants, whenever she wants, does.

I felt content and, for the moment, happy.
The way you do when you are single and life is just much less complicated. Much less tumultuous. The highs more even and the lows less deep. I generally go to bed at the same time, wake up around the same time. I don't plan too far into the future.

I didn't envy my friends with kids. I didn't wish to fall in love. I didn't pine for anyone.
I didn't want to talk on the telephone. I didn't care to check my email. I didn't mind being alone.
I didn't need anyone.

And, alone in my newish, smallish apartment, considering the future that lied ahead of me, and considering the obstacles I would no doubt have to face, and pondering my ability to stick to my guns, I felt pretty damn good.