I woke up this morning at 2 a.m. I was somewhat mesmerized by our night-light, which Maria spotted at an antique story a few weeks ago, it cost $30. It exists in the corner of our bedroom, it casts a lovely shadow on the ceiling.

It casts a very soft light in the room and off of the ceiling, Maria has made it into a kind of shrine, there is Buddha and some rocks and crystals. I love the feel of it.

I never did get back to sleep, this has happened to me every night this week. I am not as tired as I ought to be.

A kind of loneliness and need for solitude has swept over me lately, I am keeping to myself.

Tonight, we have invited Carol Gulley and some friends that she knows over for dinner, some people – women –  I know she will relate to and knows and feels comfortable with. I’m cooking tonight, scallops and fresh corn and tomato and mozzarella cheese.

Maria wants my recipe, but I never give her my recipes, my grandmother, a superstitious Russian, cautioned me to never give away my recipes, people will leave me. It’s crazy, but I believe it.

I can only guess what Carol is feeling, how painful and how disorienting it might be to suddenly be without a partner of 47 years. I honestly don’t think I can be of much help directly, other than helping her to get out or talk when she needs to.

I imagine that there will be many times she doesn’t need to or want to. Or can’t.

Carol wanted to come, and that pleased and surprised us. I was rushing around all morning getting the right ingredients.

Otherwise, I am not feeling up to much socializing and I am realizing how little I care for most socializing. I  tend to favor one on one dinners with conversations, parties or large gatherings are shaped by small talk, they are about small talk, and I am not good at small talk or comfortable with it.

Perhaps it has to do with the Dyslexia, I am told that it sometimes does.

It’s curious but I never thought much about Dyslexia until recently, and I am only beginning to see how it has shaped my life. Maria was looking at one of my fish photographs and was trying to explain the waterline, the tank line, and fish  reflections. I couldn’t fathom where one began and the other ended, she saw it right away.

I simply couldn’t grasp what she was saying or understand where one began and the other ended. Then I said to her, “Maria, I can’t process this, it’s the Dyslexia,” and it was good to say and not feel stupid, as I was often made to feel.

I’m not sure where my thirst for solitude is coming from, it might have to do with Ed Gulley’s death from cancer, I can’t say I know. I used to call this a funk, a black hole, but that was fear speaking, now I see it as sweet and cleansing and necessary.

In recent years, the need for solitude has swept over me in great waves, it’s like an ocean tide that goes in and  out. Sometimes, you just look up and see that is far out. I need it and find it precious.

There is freedom in solitude, I feel I can grow old freely. I need to be preoccupied with my own usefulness and future less and less. I can now offer services to the world that I could not offer before, there was simply no space in my head.

I have lost many of the obligations and dependencies that shaped so much of my life.

My increasingly empty and long marriage ended, my daughter is grown up and highly competent, my life as a book author is winding down even as my life as a writer seems to just be  beginning. I really have very little to prove, and my life will soon enough begin to wind down.

I lost my father, mother, my child lives far away, I never speak to my brother and sometimes speak to my sister, I am not on fire to find success or rewards or  recognition.

I love my life with Maria, and talk often with a friend or two. I love being on the farm, writing, taking photos,  reading books. Most of the time, this is enough for me.

Ironically, this means I can find a community now, I can do what is the most meaningful to me. I am not religious but I live in a community of faith, I take the world seriously but never too seriously.

I can laugh at myself, and I do, all of the time. This is an important reversal.

It used to be that everyone else laughed at me, and i couldn’t. Life is inherently ridiculous, and if I can’t laugh at it, I will wither like the early spring flowers turning brown in our garden.

In loneliness, I have found  my mantra. Do not be afraid, I tell myself, I am accepted.