Self Portrait 6

photo by minnie

I was invited to a party on Friday night – it was a celebration of the host’s 18 year old daughter’s eighteenth birthday, sort of.

There was champagne, and wine and beer – I tried all of them – food, song and speeches.

I was with my family, but I sat alone.

Sure I said hello, kissed everyone, shook a hand or two, engaged in conversation, but…

I was pretty much sitting alone.

I had a long chat with Gabrieil who is about five years old, about Go-Go’s – the creatures not the dancers.

Then we ran out of mutual interest.

I felt tired suddenly, so said goodnight and returned.

Alone.

And slept in the van.

On my own.

Solitude is something that I don’t really understand – except you can feel it when you are on your own and when you are with others.

If you are truly on your own it hurts more I know, if you are alone with others it’s different.

Self-imposed?

An act of choice?

The wrong place at the wrong time?

Looking back through a life I’ve known – and I am paraphrasing John Martyn here – I am sometimes sad about the way it’s grown.

I’m alone at this moment – son is visiting his girlfriend, wife and daughter are dancing – I was cleaning.

I stopped to write this.

Because I was thinking of solitude, again.

I think it’s a strong part of me – look where I live!

If you can find it!!

Miaow.