A Party of One

I was thinking the other night while cooking up some stir-fry General Tso’s Chicken. The box said it would feed two people. What are they talking about? The General Tso’s Chicken I get from a Chinese takeout will feed two. Those orders are freakin’ huge! But this home version of my favorite Asian dinner? There might have been enough there to feed two, but this box would only feed one. Sure, I would have shared it with someone if there would have been someone to share it with. But it was only me and my pets, and I ain’t sharing that with them.

What was I thinking about? What was I not thinking about? I think it was the concept of cooking a meal made for two that only one person was going to eat that caused the thoughts that hurt my head and watered my eyes. I don’t normally cook for myself. At least not a full meal. I don’t see the need for it when my kids aren’t here. When they are, it’s a full course meal…meats, veggies, starches, maybe even dessert. When they aren’t…well, its grilled cheese with tomato soup or something else as easy to make. I guess I just feel that I’m not worth the effort. Even that Chinese meal I was making was not a full-course meal…a few minutes on the stove and it was ready for me to devour.

The thoughts. They suck. You’d think I’d learn by now there’s never an easy way. Never an easy way to let go; never an easy way to be free of pain; never an easy way to start all over. It is said that time heals all wounds. I suppose that is true, but who keeps track of the time? Is there a mystical being in some ethereal place surrounded by timepieces…sundials, wall clocks, wristwatches…watching them push time into the past, counting down the time to the seconds to where the pain just goes away? If this being would just reach over to the clock that is tied to my soul and push the hands forward a little…I would be eternally grateful.

There are people that come into your life that leave indelible marks upon you that you will never forget. My daughter is feeling down tonight. She doesn’t want to play with the neighbor boy, which in itself is an indication of something being wrong. I asked her what was wrong. She says she misses her friends from school, namely a boy named Brian. My little girl is missing a boy? Oh boy. I was reminded the other night (not that I need any reminding…I see it happening) that my little girl is not really a little girl anymore. I think the words used were “young lady”. I don’t want a young lady. Not yet. Now school has only been out for two weeks, certainly not long enough to develop deep rooted feelings of missing someone. But it may be long enough. I know that I miss people. I miss lots of people. I keep these little compartments in my heart that hold memories of each and every one of them and don’t think for one moment that I will run out of room in there for those from my past and for those yet to come. Renovation is occurring constantly. More rooms are built for housing the ones I have loved, do love, and will come to love.

I’ve got someone else that I am close to that is going away. Not too far away, but far enough that a short trip across town won’t suffice when I want to hang out. I want to say, “You say that it isn’t that far away, only a few hours. But you know how much I see you now…a whole lot less than I wish for. Just imagine when miles and time are between us.” If you are reading this at all, just know this: I miss you already. I will miss you when you go. Your room is already adorned with monkeys, music, and stories of adventure. Waiting for you to move on in…not you physically, but you know what I mean. And know that I do love you.

It isn’t the being alone that I don’t like. I can be alone. It might not be a good thing, but I do a lot of my thinking and planning while alone. I don’t like being lonely. I don’t feel lonely all the time. No, it is just something, a feeling that comes over me every once in a while, but it always seems to come when I am feeling down, when I am at my most vulnerable, when there is no one here to talk to, to ask how my day went, to tell me how theirs went. And it is always when I am doing something to remind me that I am alone, like when cooking a meal made for two to be eaten by only one.

I just learned of a book by Anneli Rufus called Party of One. In it she talks about the subculture of humans who have one thing in common. They are loners. Loners are often picked upon by the non-loners, the “Joiners, schmoozers, teamworkers, congregants and all those who play well with others”, calling them “Crazy. Cold. Stuck-up. Standoffish. Selfish. Sad. Bad. Secretive”. Throughout history, loners have not only survived, but have actually changed the world; not just saved civilizations, but had a big hand in creating them. I wouldn’t call myself a “non-loner” and I certainly am not a “loner”. I might be somewhere in between I suppose.

Not all aspects of being by myself are bad. Household commodities, like toilet paper seem to last longer (especially when the kids are away…nothing like a whole roll in the toilet to try and flush down); a bottle of laundry detergent seems bottomless; a gallon of milk lasts for what seems like weeks…wait, that’s not a good thing.

There are times when it isn’t easy to be alone. Times when I feel like there isn’t anyone out there listening, because when I call out, there’s no reply at all. Times when I feel like there’s never an easy way to get over the next hill, much less get to the top of the hill I am on at the time. Never an easy way to shake the sensation of a needle in a haystack, the distant star seen on a sunny day, the last man on the planet syndrome, the speck of life on a dandelion being held by a gentle elephant. Never an easy way…


I think I slip the net,
But I cut myself free,
I'm not losing yet,
So don't forget me.

I'll say it, replay it, and try tomorrow
I'll say it, replay it, and live with sorrow.

You'd think I learn by now,
There's never an easy way,
I get through somehow,
I'm on my knees to pray,

You'd think I learn by now,
There's never an easy way,
I get through somehow,
I'm on my knees.

I'll admit I'm wrong,
But I'm getting on track,
I've been here too long,
I'm under attack.

I place it, replace it, and try to change,
I place it, replace it, and rearrange.

You'd think I learn by now,
There's never an easy way,
I get through somehow,
I'm on my knees to pray.

You'd think I learn by now,
There's never an easy way,
I get through somehow.

I'm on my knees to pray.
On my knees to pray.

I think I slip the net,
But I cut myself free,
I'm not losing yet,
So don't forget me.

I'll say it, replay it, and try tomorrow,
I'll say it, replay it, and live with sorrow.

You'd think I learn by now,
There's never an easy way,
I get through somehow,
I'm on my knees to pray.

You'd think I learn by now,
There's never an easy way,
I get through somehow,
I'm on my knees to pray,
I'm on my knees to pray,

On my knees to pray.
On my knees to pray.

Never an Easy Way by Morcheeba

Never an easy way. But I’ll get through somehow…