Nineteen years ago today, I was on my own for the first time in my life; beholden to no one but myself. I had moved in with my boyfriend straight from my father's house, and we married a year later, in 1976. My divorce was final on July 3, 1991. In 34 years, I had never lived on my own.
I distinctly remember my feelings that day. I was alternately elated, sad, and bereft. I could make my own decisions for the first time, yet I scarcely knew what I thought. I could make my own choices, but I wasn't sure what I liked. I was joyous and scared.
It was as if I had finally started living.
Oh, what a long, strange trip it's been.
