Resolute Absolution

Most days are fine, good even, but then these other days pop up where I am suddenly shocked by my actions. Reality falls like a lead ball into my stomach, and I wonder if I know, really know, what I am doing.

How lonely will I get or be? I will have to take my own garbage to the curb (um, that might be the one thing he does that I don't look forward to having to take on. Or it's the only thing he does...) . I will be alone.

Will I like being alone (again)? One only needs to look at the alternative to know that the answer to that question is mute. But still, it begs asking (and suffering).

I'm a little scared. But, not scared enough to stand still. I'm more scared of standing still than entering the unknown.

I'm also sad - not just about the obvious, but something more, too.  Perhaps I feel sad because it feels a little like I lost something that was tangible and nice in my present. Something that, there could be no doubt, I would have to let go of eventually (and shortly after receiving it even). But,  I guess, it feels like a bummer - if indeed it has met its end already. I will miss it.

Yeah, that's the sadness. There is a resolute absolution that stirs beautifully in me, on the precipice of my knowing, like a small dirt devil dancing in my peripheral.

It's coming.