"I'll walk where my own nature would be leading. It vexes me to choose another guide." Emily Bronte author. b. 1818, d. 1848
Was Emily ahead of her time? An independent visionary? A feminist rebel? Maybe. But she was also a stubborn recluse, who died at age 30 because of it, her "nature" refusing medical attention for pneumonia until it was too late. Just a year earlier she had published her literary masterpiece 'Wuthering Heights', the only novel she would have the time to complete. She never married.
I have been alone in recent days. Time apart from my best friend and husband of 34 years. Freed from the negotiations and compromises of a daily shared life, I fully admit the time alone has been delightful.
But in my solitude I am not enjoying a sudden turn toward Bronte's "walk where my own nature" would lead me. Because I have been following my own guide all along. Dumb luck landed me with a partner who understands that if the path is wide enough, two people can walk together but on different routes. Zigs and zags will intersect with sufficient frequency to make a loving life.
And soon, a zig and a zag will return Steve home. We will have begun missing each other about then. After a kiss, our conversation will no doubt wander to dinnertime plans for the 12,000th time. And I won't even mind it.