Singleton

by Lisa Kight
      It is somewhere between midnight and day when the isolation sets in. The soft dawn filters through my bedroom window. As the light bathes me with softness, I remember what it feels like to wake up beside the person you love. But now, I sleep alone.
      I am not opposed to love. I have fallen in love more than once. I have fallen out of love more than once.  I hope to fall in love at least one more time in my life. So with the hope of love filling my heart, I look to Valentine’s Day with some concern. 
      It would be nice to have a sweetheart, but he has to be the right one.  I have to know the moment I meet this person that I could spend the rest of my life with him. I have never really dated.  I meet someone, we fall madly in love and the rest is history.  I refuse to hold back because whether our love lasts two days or two decades I have to know I gave my all.  I refuse to allow regret to be a part in the equation of my love. 

      Some folks may mock my unrelenting passion - saying I am a hopeless romantic. To them, I say, “Thank goodness!”  I would hate to count myself as one of the doubters, the non-believers.  If a person finds love once in their life they are lucky; if they find love more than once, it is because they have figured it out.  They know we must open themselves up to love, to trust, and only then, will we get to the good stuff.  The heavy sigh, hand holding, breath taken away at the very thought.  It all matters. 
      But who am I to say? 
      Oh, just me, a person who is a few years past twenty and knows a few things about love.
      I know what it feels like to long for the man you love for more than a year while he is away serving his country. 
      I know what it feels like to stop breathing (although I was not aware of it at the time) the moment I saw him walking across the tarmac, exhaling only after I felt his embrace.
      I know what it feels like to know no matter where he was, no matter how far, that with a word he would walk across the fiery coals of hell to get to me. 
      I know what it feels like to see his beautiful smile and embrace as our bodies meld as one.
      I know what it feels like to feel his smile on my cheek as he holds me, allowing the moment to fill my heart with love. 
      I know what it feels like to feel so lucky to have him in my life that I would fall asleep watching him sleep.
      I know what it feels like to enjoy the pleasure of his company so much that we traveled over fifty thousand miles in a truck camper over the course of four years, and I can count on one hand the times we listened to the radio while traveling. We spent every moment in conversation, or occasionally silence, knowing we were enjoying the pleasure of each other’s company.
      I know what it feels like to be kissed so softly, so passionately, that I almost swooned the first time he kissed me goodnight.
      I won’t settle for anything less. 
      So, yes I am alone this Valentine’s Day, and yes, I wish I were not going to be.  But I would rather be alone than with someone who was not “the one”. 
      I remember what a friend said to me one day, “Remember, the only thing worse than being alone…is wishing you were.”