Instead of eating in front of the TV, I spent some time reflecting about being alone and why I hate it so much. I thought even before I was alone for the first time after my husband died, that being alone is one of the worst, I guess I would call it, states, one could be in. Even when my husband and I lived separately for a time because of my new career, I wasn’t alone, I was by myself; he was still tightly ingrained in my life. To be alone means you have no one to share your life on a consistent basis: no daily, close, interactions, lots of silence, no attention, and no one listening. Cooking, eating in or especially out, kayaking, fishing, skiing, hiking, and sleeping alone aren’t enjoyable, in fact, they’re downright lonely, only driving the point in further that I’m alone, and yet, that is my state, one I can’t seem to get used to. I know people who do these things and more, alone, all the time, so I’m wondering what’s their secret and how can I make alone as natural as breathing. Currently I ignore it pretty well. Maybe I need to stop.