On being solitary.

Being alone is not such a bad thing. My grandmother used to tell me that I could be understood by only two entities- God, and my own inner self. We come into this world alone, unless we are twinned, and we die alone (unless we go in a plane crash). The myth of the cosy intimate family is just that- a myth. The closest I have ever gotten to it, with the important exception of my beloved husband and sons (and their spouses), is in the pages of story books like ‘Little Women’. I have read many books about relationships-between mothers/daughters, sisters, husbands and wives, and friends. The most important thing in a relationship- for me at least- is authenticity. To feel safely held in the heart of another, without having to reinvent oneself in order to be accepted. If that is not attainable, then it is easier by far to be alone. Love cannot be demanded or forced upon another.

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