Six people asked me in the last 24 hours, “Are you going to Marquette alone?”
Varying expressions and tones accompanied this question. Disbelief, dismay, amazement, astonishment and approval.
I love to be alone. I feel like a bird flying free. Unimpeded, unrestricted, wings aloft, ready to turn left or right without explanation, without consultation.
Of course, I love traveling with my husband and children and friends, too. But so often freedom beckons to travel solo, independent. To sleep over in motels and dine in restaurants at a table for one.
“Perhaps many people aren’t so comfortable with themselves,” mused a friend.
Perhaps. I think there’s no greater gift than to want to spend time alone with oneself.