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I organized my files tonight.  Now I’m ready for love.  I’ve grown up.  Finally reached adulthood.  It’s time.  My time.  Time for love.  I don’t have to prove anything, to myself or anyone else, anymore.  I just have to be myself.  Although that changes daily.  Maybe even more often than that.  I can be alone in the apartment now and not be lonely.  I’m comfortable.  Tonight.  After nearly two years here.  The cats are sitting on the kitchen cabinets listening to it rain outside the balcony door.  I’m tired.  I’m here, a calm presence.  T.S. Eliot sits on the counter next to me.  (I’m not sitting on the counter, but in a chair.)  The refrigerator whirs fairly loudly.  The rain stops.  It’s getting late.  I would stay up and write all night if I could keep my eyes open. I see the dark brown basket that contains my files.  It sits on the small chest of drawers the upstairs neighbor gave me several months ago.  She thought she was moving out, then decided to stay.  I decided not to ask her if she wanted the chest back.  The top of the basket is concealed.  Only I know its contents.  I’m happy about my progress as of late.  The papers have piled up since the separation and divorce.  I’ve just recently committed to going through everything.  When I first moved out, I was paralyzed by the papers, so I just spread them all over the floor in my bedroom next to the pallet I slept on, and watched them pile up.  I have taken baby steps in some areas, and great strides in others. These days I’m telling myself that I’m good enough.  I don’t need to become anything other than what I am.  I am already lovable.  The only thing necessary at this point is patience, sleep, and a paper shredder.

Copyright Suzanne Norton  2016