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.
4 comments:
I can imagine! Happy anniversary to yourself :)
A wide open, feeling, like the picture above.
I was in that exact place once too. I had precisely 6 months in my life where I lived on my own---not in my parents' house, not in a shared house/apt with a significant other. It was such a short time but it looms large in my memory.
I, too, had six months on my own. I had housemates in a nice home, in the Morningside area of Atlanta, but Sweetie and I didn't move in our cute little rental until January, 1992.
Also? The money I saved by not having to support the old husband! Incredible!
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