1. I am enchanted with the way my little goldfish June swims all about her bowl as soon as I walk toward it. She’s just like a puppy, with her tail waggling around and her fins flapping up and down. When I put my head up against the glass, she jets to the top, in anticipation of food. I’m not kidding—either I have a genius fish, or everyone seriously underestimates the thought and emotional capacity of aquatic life.
2. “One of the things I love so much about his voice is how calming and soothing it is, almost like melted dark chocolate, in a small stainless-steel cup.” –Caitlin the Once-Dreadlocked but Perpetual Poet
3. I took myself out for a candlelit dinner last night, and I must say, I make a very hot date. I treated myself to some delicious Riesling, an entrée of Chicken Chardonnay, and apple crisp, with a second glass of Riesling. I invited myself for a casual walk on the beach after dinner, basking in the simple pleasure of a full belly, and an evening well-spent.
A married friend of mine recently revealed to me that she envies my independence; not too long ago she was able to frolic about the city on her bike, go out for solo dinners, or waste an entire afternoon in a coffee shop with no one but a journal and book for company. Now she and her husband bike most places together, she rarely eats dinner alone, and the romance of mysterious evening solitude at a coffee shop is slightly lessened by the fact that her husband always knows where she is and what she’s doing.
Of course these small changes do not lead her to consider annulment, but they are signs that life is now very different for her. And while of course I envy her for the stability, comfort, affirmation, affection, and consistent encouragement her husband brings her, I am inspired to be more thankful for this season of alone-ness (“sola-ness” as my Chilean amigas and I affectionately called it). I will appreciate these little gifts: modest flirtation with the loveliest of waiters, time to read a favorite book over a glass of wine in the overripe August night air, a walk on the beach—just me and George Harrison, then back to my small but bright apartment for an early attempt at sleep delightfully failed by late-night texting.