Even though I am the type who walks into a party and nosedives into a fairly distant corner with his literature or political read du jour, on this family holiday my mind is on two friends who are spending it alone.
One by choice, one not.
They intrigue me.
They concern me.
A man, a woman.
One is sick today, and reluctantly will avoid company. The other craves isolation.
One’s television set broke two days ago. The other would not have a television set if it were accompanied by a guaranteed winning Lotto ticket and a bucket of thousand-dollar bills.
One is older, one not.
They don’t know each other.
Neither has married, by choice, I presume.
On this day designed for family, neither has a relative within thousands of miles.
On this day when commercial America pulls its blinds and weekday routines, where does such a person go?
Each lives in a sparsely furnished setting.
While I have spent chunks of my life running toward people I may not have cared for, in quest of human company, and no longer need GPS assistance to find a wedding aisle, my solitary friends are otherwise motivated.
That, mainly, is why I am thinking of them this morning as we drive about the city, en route to a flurry of destinations.
A remote corner, accompanied by a book, is comfortable at a party.
Day-to-day, though, I want/need to be among people.
Doesn’t everyone?
No.
Both of my resourceful friends blend their solo acts at home with active, visible lives outside of their homes.
I value my friendship with both.
I am sorry they are alone this day.
One is, one is not.
