I Am One of Many

I like quiet. To be alone. To spend time reflecting. On life. And everything else.

But, then, I find myself, as part of those reflecting moments, to not want to be alone because it may eventually come true. Probably will.

What then?

This morning I was reading in the back room, focused and engaged in a mystery drama.

Suddenly, I paused. Took my eyes off the text. Stared out the window. And listened.

I heard Rudy in the kitchen. Turning on and off the KitchenAid mixer. I heard nothing else. Just the whir of the slowly spinning paddle. Mixing bread dough.

I just listened.

The sound of that mixer fills our home regularly. He’s always making something. The sound of Rudy in the kitchen feels comforting in the same way that being alone soothes my soul.

I want to be quiet, to be alone, and to reflect on everything. And just as important, I want human connection.



Rudy and I moved in together
nine months after we met.
We liked each other.
Simple as that.
We didn’t over think what it would mean.
What people would say.
We just knew it was what we wanted to do.

So we did.

We moved in together,
into a small, one bedroom apartment.
And thus, our life together began.

Rudy and I had been told by many,                                                                                                                       many who seemed to know,
that it was going to be difficult                                                                                                                                living in one space.
Different than just dating.


for whatever reason,
for us,
it wasn’t difficult.

Our relationship flowed smoothly.
From dating
to living together.

One day.

After four months of sharing a living space.
While we were sitting on an ugly brown couch.
Rudy turned to me.
And asked if I’d like to marry him.
“Why, yes, of course I would,”
I answered,
in between bites of food.

He smiled.

And that was that.
We were engaged.