Space of My Own

I am always always always late on these Wicked Wednesday posts, even when they are something I want to write about. Even though I get the email as soon as Marie Rebel posts the prompt. Maybe I should make that a blogging goal. I have decided to make myself modest (very modest) writing goals this year, because, in the past, that has worked to some degree for me.. Nothing like the goals I have set in the past (a story a month submitted for publication? How crazy was that? Even crazier that every one of them got published…) but something to work for, something to give me a little boost whenever I make a goal. So? Maybe doing – at minimum – the Wicked Wednesday prompts.

We’ll see. Still cogitating on that one.

Anyway, I digress. This past Wednesday’s prompt was about “space.” The prompt talked about space like, you know, the final frontier, but of course, having just moved into a new space, it seemed like the perfect jumping off point to ruminate on the changes, adjustments, joys and challenges of my move into my new space and living away from the Treehouse.

Living on my own, for real.

My new, messy, room. Still in the unpacking stage!

Not living alone, of course – as I have mentioned, I have a roommate for the first time in, oh, 25 years? But not living with a lover, a husband, a domestic partner. I was living “alone” at the Treehouse. I mean, it was definitely my space. But…I was one building over from Adam. He was a fixture a the Treehouse, though he didn’t stay over all the time. I saw him at least 3 evenings a week, sometimes four, and, barring weird schedule stuff, he’d stay over two of them. I also saw him every morning when he stopped by on the way to work to have a cuppa joe and chat before our days started. That, I can tell you, I miss dearly. That daily checking-in, even if it was only a few minutes.

He has only stayed over here twice in the month since the move, though he has been here many days and evenings. It’s in part because the dog situation is not ideal: Felix doesn’t get on with other dogs, and my roommate, L, has a little dog that he would probably eat. So when Ad does stay over there is a lot of careful maneuvering to keep the dogs separate. At the moment we are simply letting schedules happen the way they will, and adjusting to circumstances as we get settled in. I have a feeling we’ll find a balance eventually. But meantime, I find myself oddly content with sleeping alone more often, with my evenings free when he isn’t here and I can do my usual Jade things, just like I used to at the Treehouse. Still, it is an adjustment.

I’m okay, though. I like not having to answer to anyone, I like simply being able to show up, or not, at home after work. I like knowing I can choose to do whatever I want, when I want, the way I want, without consulting anyone.

I know, I know, it sounds incredibly self-centered, doesn’t it? Maybe it’s just the newness. Maybe it’s the surprising pleasure of enjoying my own company. Of not having anyone to answer to or for anyone else after living my entire life with others. Boyfriends, lovers, children, husbands. My time is my own. My life is my own. To craft, to mold, to create.

Such a very different place, such a very different space, than I was in only 36 months ago.


  1. ancilla ksst

    Interesting! I have not once, never, lived alone. I don’t even know how that would be. I’m glad you are enjoying the freedom; it sounds peaceful.

    I went from my parents’, to college with roommates, to a house with my Master AND roommates. Then for a while we had no roommates, just the two of us, then we had kids…


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