Lonely Sundays

I don’t know if it’s me or just bad luck but I’m starting to get a complex. For some reason I’m doomed to spend Sundays by myself. And it’s not just since my divorce from two years ago. This has been ongoing from as far back as I remember. I have this dream of lying in bed with my partner reading the Sunday New York Times (paper version) and then after our leisurely morning we go outside and play, either a stroll in the city, a walk on the beach, skiing, hiking, biking. Anything will do. In my twenties I traveled extensively and worked at a few resorts, as did my boyfriend. The day of the week didn’t matter. Time wasn’t as important back then. In addition to being lucrative and resume-worthy, we had fun. It was just what we did. This pattern carried over into my thirties when I opened a restaurant. Still fit in with my lifestyle and I was used to the schedule. Then I moved into sales and had to make Sunday phone calls. I had my mornings but my day was still interrupted. In my forties I finally had Sundays off but my husband worked at a resort so he was gone most Sundays. And now I’m fifty with children and I still can’t get it right! The boys are with my coparent on Sundays and I’m alone. It was this past Sunday when I decided it was time to give up and embrace the solitude. I made arrangements with a friend to go for a hike. I’ve done this particular hike, Mt. Chocorua in New Hampshire, every year. I stayed over at her house the night before so we could get an early start. The first sign that something was amiss was she cancelled going out to dinner with me Saturday, my birthday, because she had a last minute massage appointment. I understand the need to make money when the opportunity arises but was looking forward to getting out. I had traveled two hours to get there. It turned out fine. We had a late meal at her house and another friend came over for an evening of catching up. We made it out Sunday morning with beautiful early autumn weather for what is normally a six hour hike. I hadn’t hiked with her before but I knew ahead of time it would be a fast pace and was looking forward to it because I’ve always had to wait for someone when I’ve gone before. After the first quarter mile of small talk with me about 20 paces behind her, she passed a group in front and took off. She was ahead of me the whole entire time. She waited for me at the summit and when I arrived twenty minutes after her she was talking with two guys. I said hi, we joked about her warp speed pace, that it was my fastest time up yet and that once I got my breath I was going to smack her. The two guys said to hold on while they got their phone out so they could make a video. We laughed and that was it. We turned around and started down. Sure enough she took off. This was a first for me where I went with a friend but didn’t actually hike with a friend. On my way up I made a mental note to never go for a hike with her again. As I processed further I wondered if I’m just supposed to accept my Sunday isolation and make the most of it. As I got a little tired I couldn’t help but think that maybe I repel people and nobody wants to spend time with me on Sundays. That lonely feeling crept in. Even on a hike. When I saw the summit I was able to turn off my thoughts and focus on getting to the top. On my trip down I decided it is what it is, I’m out on a personal best hike (three hours) on a beautiful day, and I should enjoy the moment and the silence and see what next Sunday brings.

#hike #alone #divorce #solitude