Solitude

There is more solitude in my life than there has ever been. I've always had a contemplative side and can lose myself in thought and music sitting on the back deck or staring at the ocean. I'll stand with my feet in the water, swaying from side to side lost in thoughts.

Then Conner will suddenly be standing beside with with a lopsided grin.

"What?" I ask ripping my earphones out.

"What?" he'll ask back.

Conner is a master of deep conversations.

Anyway, I have noticed on this trip the solitude of the night. Solitude far outpaces contemplativeness. And in the night, when there is no music, I lay in the bed and am engulfed in the solitude. It washes over me, surrounding the room and I stare at it.

And I think about finding love in my life again. Romantic love. The love of a best friend who is also my lover. And I lay my hand on the empty side of the bed. And I wish.

My friends here are all couples so I suppose that it is more profound to me that I am not. During the day, it is ok, but solitude commands the night.

It is alright. I know that I am preparing for the love that is coming. It will be richer and deeper and purer than any that I have had before.

Sometimes I talk to my friend Trolly Joe on the pier at Tybee and he shares with me his story and how he now holds love dearly in his life. And I've come to appreciate this time of preparing. And if Joe is right, you get better at it as you go through difficult times in your life. And you appreciate it more after you've known loss.

But in the solitude of the night, as I lay in the quiet, I begin to understand that the night brings longing. And and the longing will bring love. And that I will treat it more tenderly and hold it more dearly than I ever have before.