I got up a little earlier this morning to walk our big dog (the Great Dane) before our three granddaughters, who spent the night with us, woke up. 5 am in Florida? Yep, still dark.
The big girl and I headed up a main thoroughfare before dawn. Much to my delight, there were no cars on the road. None. Zip. Nada.
I loved that moment.
Suddenly I felt like I was all alone in the world. Just me and my dog and a long, long line of street lights shrouded in a touch of fog.
That moment was surreal. What if it was just me and my dog alone in the world? What if we were the only ones left? What if everyone else somehow vanished?
I loved that aloneness. I wanted it to last. And I wanted it to be over. I wanted someone, anyone to drive by. But at the same time, I hoped they wouldn’t.
What should I do with that? I love being by myself, and yearn for the crowd. I crave solitude, and pursue the mob. I am so comfortable with just me, yet wonder when everyone else will arrive.
The paradox torments me.
Waite for it... 