In the Driver's Seat

Meet Tilly :-)

 Guess who now owns her car! Well, the bank and I do. My lease came to an end and a decision needed to be made. Luckily, it was an easy decision since I like my car and, if you know me, you know when I like something, I hang on to it for a good long time, and cars are no exception.

To celebrate, I took myself out to dinner. There's a restaurant I like next to the dealership, and while we used to go there all the time, it's no longer a family favorite. So, since my husband was at the gym, it was a perfect time to treat myself.

When I was single and in my 20s, I did things like this a lot -- going out to dinner by myself, that is, not buying cars. I mean, why deprive myself of something I wanted, whether it was eating a meatball sub or watching the latest movie release, just because I was flying solo?

These days, "solo" is actually something I relish more than ever. I got used to it as a graduate student in my early 20s, learning not only to do things alone but to enjoy my own company as well. In my 30s, I gradually ceded my alone as marriage and motherhood framed my life. Quiet pursuits were no longer the norm and, to be honest, as much as I enjoyed my solo time, I also enjoyed being in the thick of things.

Now, as an empty-nester with a work schedule different from my husband's, I often have the house to myself, making solo time, once again, more the norm. During the day, my home serves as my office when I'm not teaching, not to mention my writing studio, organizing work-in-progress, and so many other things. I'm comfortable there, and that comfort has made risk-taking and solo pursuits much less frequent occurrences than they used to be. Now, I have to remind myself to step out of the comfortable day-to-day and dare to do things on my own that would perhaps be more comfortable if I had company or support. 

Like taking myself out to dinner.

How was it? Quiet, despite the rise and fall of conversations all around me. But mostly, it was delicious in every sense of the word. 

Shh. Don't tell my husband.