Four…three…two… and finally, one

This post is written by my blogger, writer and dear friend Jo Ann Phelps.

Being suddenly single after 40 years of marriage comes in daily doses of "first" time surprises. Some are easier to adjust to than others.  Some, well…not so much. Grocery shopping for one was actually more exciting than I thought it would be. Small cart? Yep, I’ll take it. Smaller, better cut of meat,  why not? Mallow Mars? Yes!  Salad for dinner…of course!  I’ll admit that my first venture into the super market sans wedding band was a long dreaded chore that I was trying hard to make enjoyable. But there really is a plus to only buying things that suit your own palate! It’s an adjustment to be sure. But I found the perks of self-indulgence outweighed the thought of eating alone (most nights). And because I’m logistically surrounded by family and friends, I make sure that at least one week night meal includes the need to cook for many!

Four…three...two…and finally, one.

The need to compromise no longer exists. My entire married life I wanted a sleigh bed. I always loved how the rich wood sat high above the mattress and curved at the foot and head boards. Dressed in a down comforter with layers of pillows, it will cradle you to sleep. But, I was married to a man who thought sleeping in a sleigh bed was like sleeping in a coffin. Needless to say, it was my first “single woman” purchase.  My color wheel has always included earth tones. The walls in my new home are creams, taupe and light milk chocolate. I didn't need to strategize, plot or convince anyone that they would work well together.  They are the hues of warmth and I consulted no one.

Four…three...two…and finally, one

There’s more, there is so much more to life alone that I never really considered as I was steadying myself for this course. First, when it came to this divorce, I was the receiver, not the quarterback. Now, many months later, I still close my eyes sometimes and think “what the hell happened?”  But I work hard, really hard, not to dwell in that place too long. I can’t control days past, but I most definitely control the days ahead. Will I ever open or expose my heart again? Perhaps, but not now, and not for some time to come.

Four…three...two…and finally, one

But in spite of my “can do” attitude, until recently, there was something that was keeping me starting off each day with one foot in the past. I would get out of bed, walk into the bathroom…and there it was. The symbol that with one glance, seemed to personify my existence…one toothbrush in the ceramic holder. There were once four, then son left for college, and there were three, other son moved out, and then there were two. How it got down to one is still a puzzle to me. But each morning it seemed to glare at me, as if to say “okay, now you get to face another day as a divorced woman.”  Realizing this, I put the lone toothbrush  in the cabinet, out of site. Only takes a second to get it. Now, I make it a point that the first thing I look at when I open my eyes is the morning sun coming through the window. Another day.  Another opportunity to reinvent myself.  I’m the “one” now.  And I’m okay with that.

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For more of For more of Jo Ann's wonderful words pay her a visit over at Kitchen Clatter.

Jessica