To Stand Alone

“Where is your husband?” They all ask, inevitably, if they get me alone. This is not a question for public discussion, but the men here are curious about this. Whether or not they’re interested in making me their Bedouin wife is another question. Sometimes I say yes, sometimes I say no. Obviously, I say yes when I see a little twinkle in their eye. They are usually older than me too. Like, way older. But then again the men are very weathered here. I think they are attractive people, always smiling, but the sun and desert air give them all an aging Moses look. I tell the truth when I know them well and if they are married. “Oh, I’m sorry!” is the usual response, given in a serious tone. There’s a soap opera on TV here where one character is a single mother. She is always depicted as sad and lonely, often just crying in her room with her young bastard child moping at her feet. I’m thinking this is good propaganda to discourage such a damned lifestyle… if only they could see the truth! I’m not saying that single motherhood is easy or always pleasant, but it has some seriously wonderful benefits. Bailey and I form a team. She isn’t so much the child of a parent couple as much as a full member of a duo. I think it’s easier to compromise between two rather than three people. And, needless to say, I get to spend a lot of time with my teenage daughter, keeping her close by in an unstable world. But don’t get me wrong, I love companionship and being in love! I just think being a single mother has been really good for me, for all the obvious reasons. I didn’t always feel like this though. When I first ended up on my own, I was always wishing for a love in my life, feeling incomplete. I wanted my life to be like the fairy tales. It took me about 3 years to stop this wasteful wishing, but I spent quite a few evenings feeling sorry for myself. I got sick with Meniere’s Disease (inner ear disorder) and my focus became my health and Bailey. Now, I’m feeling good and appreciate every day, whether I’m alone or “taken”. My happiness comes from my family and friends, my creativity and nature.
So, I respond back to the men, “I am not sorry. I am happy!” And I can say that and really feel it. I mean, there is someone that my heart skips a beat for back home, but I’ve learned to take those feelings of longing and sometimes unrequited love and just appreciate the sensations as being part of my sentient life. Like the other night, looking at the moondrenched mountains from camp, it was easy to desire romance. But that feeling in itself was romantic and I breathed it in and realized what a great life I have.