Alone

Immediately upon writing that word. Upon putting it up there in that empty white slot, I hear the little army of negative connotations marching in to set up camp.

It’s true, it is a very forlorn word. Speak it aloud. It sound like the hushed moan of a dying loved one, the far-off cry of a loon.

Now I’m just ranting.

But I don’t think it’s a horrible word. At least, I wish it wasn’t considered to be. There is something lovely and serene about being alone. Something divine.

When I’m alone I realize things about life. I stop. I listen to the silences. I appreciate things, the pale morning light, the gentle rustle of snow skating across snow. I appreciate people–this is the best part– I learn to love them better.

It’s alone I see where I stand, how far I have to go. And who’s been there always, walking beside.