Last night Greg went to dinner with his uncle and cousin and I opted to stay in by myself.

The second the door shut behind them, the house quiet except for the spatter of rain against the window panes, I realized that I couldn’t remember the last time I spent an evening at home alone. Greg and I have been living together for 4 months now and we haven’t spent a night apart yet. The night before our wedding will be our first. We’ve certainly gone out independently of each other but I just haven’t stayed in alone…not since I lived in my old place in Lincoln Park.

I sat for a while on the couch just being quiet and looking around the house. A home always feel different when you’re alone — the walls expand, the silence increases, the hours stretch on quietly before you. I thought about how sometimes this feeling used to strike fear into me, about how I could feel the whole world shifting out from underneath me when alone for too long a time. I thought about how, for so very long, I’ve felt disconnected and untied.

I remember those first moments after my father died. Letting go of his hand and walking away from his bedside, walking down the hallway of his condo, the carpet shushing underneath my feet. I walked outside to the little patio on which he always stood on Sunday mornings, watering his flowers. And I gently turned off the oxygen tank that sat in the corner. The machine hissed to a stop and the silence that was left was like a thing. I looked out across the rooves at the dusky California evening and I felt the whole world drop away from me.

Ever since that moment I’ve been struggling to regain myself. To at once reconnect in a meaningful way and to find a way to exist alone. I think that’s what this blog has been about all along. What my life these past five years has been about.

And last night, sitting on the couch alone in the quiet house, I realized that I wasn’t alone anymore. That Greg would be home in a couple of hours with members of his family and that the house would fill again with light and noise and love and that none of that is going away, that it will in fact, only increase. And that in a matter of weeks, I will commit myself to this man and this relationship — to this deep meaningful connection that has been so deftly missing for so long.



  • Posted July 3, 2008 at 2:03 pm | Permalink

    Claire, when I think of the happiness in the world and how it has found you, enveloped you, and invited you to join it in a marvelous future, I smile. You are one of the most genuine people, thoughtful writers, and caring friends I’ve ever known. I sit here and just smile with how your lists are coming along, how graceful you’ll float in your dress, how spectacularly scrumptious the wedding cake will be, and how when you look out onto the faces of your two families, you’ll know that you have started your own legacy with Greg. He is a lucky man. They are a lucky family. I am a lucky friend. Love (and calming vibes) I send to you.

  • Posted July 3, 2008 at 2:08 pm | Permalink

    Oh Claire, I feel a little disconnected, have been reading your blog now & then, thanks to my work & the different time zones I am going through! Have you guys set the date, and I have totally missed the blog post??
    Have a great time with all the wedding prep… am sure the day will be beautiful without you trying too hard! 🙂

  • Kristin
    Posted July 8, 2008 at 12:32 am | Permalink

    Thank you for reminding me how long it takes. I love the fact that your blog makes me not miss you….so much!

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