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The days were warm and
sunny, but my thoughts were dark and dreary. The behavior of my
granddaughter Olivia and the conversation with my daughter Vanessa
had unsettled me. Was it going to be an either/or situation where
I was forced to choose between my family and this new relationship,
with all its romantic possibilities?
I felt I had to get away for a few
days. Distance myself from the problem, so to speak. I decided
on a holiday. It wasn't an easy decision to make, even though
it might sound trivial. The truth is that I'd never been away
on my own in my whole life. As a child I'd gone with my parents,
and of course for my whole married life I had been traveling with
Steve and sometimes we took the grandchildren along too. I realized
I'd been too protected, and now, suddenly on my own, I was shocked
at how dependent I'd become on others to make my decisions for
me.
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truth is that I'd never been away on my own in my whole life.
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I had
to start acting like the mature woman I was and determined not to
discuss it even with my son or
daughter, who would have told me to wait until school holidays or
felt obligated to inconvenience themselves to come with me. I needed
some space. I just had to decide where to go and for how long.
The travel section of the weekend
paper offered a number of choices. I didn't want to go abroad.
That was really too daunting. Of course I could have gone on an
organized tour, but it meant being in the continual company of
a group of people I may not have found congenial and moving somewhere
new each day, on and off buses -- the idea didn't appeal at all.
I thought about pampering myself at a luxury hotel in another
city, but I visualized sitting alone at a table in a vast dining
room with waiters hovering in the background.
Finally I decided on a small guesthouse
in the mountains where my neighbor Jenny told me she had stayed.
Treetops was only a three hour drive and it seemed like the ideal
solution.
I packed my suitcase with my prettiest
clothes and sweaters for the evening, strong walking shoes, two
novels and some skin care products and toiletries I'd once bought
on impulse and had never got around to using. The drive was lovely.
Once I left the city, I used leafy back roads that passed fields
where cows grazed contentedly, small villages whose slow pace
of life and unfamiliarity were charming, and bridges over small
rivers and creeks. When I arrived at Treetops, I found myself
already relaxed and humming tunes I'd forgotten I knew.
My room was simple but delightful;
a comfortable bed with a snowy white counterpane, a tiny en-suite
bathroom, a vast wardrobe to hang my clothes, a dresser with a
mirror. On the dresser, the owner had thoughtfully placed a vase
of sweet-smelling freesias from her garden and a bowl of fruit
from the apple orchard I could see through my picture window.
I was filled with happiness and gratitude at these simple pleasures
and the fact that I was financially able to afford them and healthy
enough to enjoy them.
I went for a walk around the orchard
and garden and felt a momentary pang that I wasn't sharing it
with Ron. Ron? Shouldn't it be Steve I was thinking of? I felt
confused for a minute but decided I didn't have to feel guilty.
That was something I would deal with during this time on my own.
Perhaps being able to envisage new people in my life was all part
of the healing process.
When dinner was served, I found the
mountain air and peacefulness had given me a ravenous appetite.
It was simple country fare, but delicious: vegetable soup, shepherd's
pie and salad, and apple sponge. There were only eight other guests,
and two were at my table, an elderly couple who told me to call
them Tillie and Sam. At first my eyes misted as that was how I'd
imagined my old age with Steve would be, but the feeling passed
quickly and we chatted away about non-controversial subjects like
the weather, the countryside, local attractions. I found I enjoyed
talking to strangers with whom I could reinvent myself any way
I wished. I didn't have to present myself as a grieving widow.
To them I was a younger, independent woman who had needed a quiet
holiday for a few days. Maybe they saw me as a career woman, a
busy hotshot professional. I certainly wasn't going to disillusion
or enlighten them. Once the meal was over, I was a free agent.
Some guests drifted to the lounge room to watch TV, while four
of them began to play bridge. I was happy with my own company.
In fact, I luxuriated in my privacy.
Of course I lived alone, but the family visited and called often,
letters and bills arrived that had to be dealt with, and each
day brought its own activities. Here at Treetops, in my charming
room, I drew a chair up to the window and started reading a light,
frothy novel, far removed from real life. When my eyes grew tired,
I sat at the mirror and opened the skin care products. First I
cleansed my face with cleansing cream. Then I applied a five-minute
facial mask to tighten the pores, and removed it with soft, damp
tissues. Finally I massaged in a combined moisturizer and nourishing
cream. My skin felt like satin and all the worry lines seemed
to disappear.
The days flew by and I savored each
one. They proved something I needed to know. I was self-sufficient.
I wasn't gauche and dependent. I didn't need my kids' approval
to do anything. Whatever decisions I made about my own future,
I would take responsibility for and only I would decide whom I
wanted to include in it.
At the end of the week, I drove home.
I felt proud of myself that I'd gone on holiday alone and had
not felt lonely. I had increased my self-respect and confidence.
I was my own best friend and it felt great. Much as I loved my
family, I was a mature individual and my future was in my own
hands.
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