A few years ago, when it seems I had more time for things like that, I sometimes made my own greeting cards. I have a good assortment of nice papers for cards and envelopes. Sometimes I’d make a collage for the front; other times I’d cut a section of a drawing, painting or print and glue it in place. Inside, I’d write my sentiments. Often, I’d choose a quote or a bit of poetry to compliment my good wishes.
Once, for an anniversary card for friends, I chose a couple lines from a poem by Carl Sandburg:
It is good to be Warm…
and sure of Tomorrow
At first, it seemed like the perfect sentiment. Then, I worried. Did that sound cynical? Bland? No talk of love or romance; no hints at passion. Was this even appropriate for an anniversary card? In the end, I went with it, hoping it would be taken in the spirit that was intended.
Personally, when I think of the beauty of a long-term relationship, and the things that I lack having been alone these many years, these are exactly the things that seem important. I am a stubborn, “bull-headed” woman, set in my ways and probably unfit for living peacefully with anyone. My marriage was clearly not working, and I’ve now been divorced for more than thirty years. It has been a decade or more since I’ve been in any kind of committed relationship. I am not unhappy with my life.
Still, there are times when it would be nice to have an arm around me, or a hand to support me. It would be such a pleasure to have another person to turn to when something doesn’t work, or something needs repair. Someone to talk to when everything seems right, or when things go wrong. I am fortunate to have dear friends and family who are often there to fill in the gaps in my life. I am also lucky that I truly like being alone. I have to admit, this has become a greater concern with age.
There is a calmness of spirit when there is someone beside you, who has shared enough life and experience with you to create a deeper bond and mutual understanding. To be fully known and accepted for who you are is a blessing. There is an ease of words and movement then, that never quite measures up when you’re on your own. That’s my experience, anyway.