In The Dead Of The Night

To admit to feeling lonely appears taboo. This to me seems vaguely ridiculous. It's the Everyman condition; I expect we've all felt it from time to time. The law of averages makes it near certain that some of you who read this have felt, or are feeling lonely. The start of the weekend can be tough when you're alone, can't it? We're social by nature; we need the company of others. Like a log fire, the right company can warm us and make us radiant.  And a bottle of wine is often best shared, even if it is just curled up on the sofa with someone special. Loneliness is often worsened when we've come out of a relationship. A broken marriage or a ruined romance; one day we're treasured and placed on a pedestal, and then it's gone, swept away on the tides of human experience. Only these tides aren't regular, are they? And a lot of things can make it hard to form new contacts. Perhaps you've got children? Or maybe that job makes it just impossible to form anything meaningful? So weekends come and weekends go, a single wine glass on the sink come the morning, the bed just too big, too empty. We've all had these experiences; there's nothing new under the sun. The purpose of this lament is just to remind those of you in that dark place, on that lonely island, that you are no less beautiful and engaging. Perhaps it's been a long time since anybody has made you feel special, but that doesn't mean you're not. You are special, in a million and one ways. And perhaps someday  soon the loneliness will end, the tide will come in, and the hopes and fears you've accumulated can be shared, cherished, and given new expression.