sololessons.

I remember the day I had my solo revelation, and the truth that there are things in life I will miss out on if I am not willing to do them alone. I was living in Florida at the time, and after getting off of work in the evenings, I had gotten in the habit of making for myself dairy free pancakes with fat free butter and sugar free syrup. Ugh. What an abundant life. Not. When I didn't have this delightful half-life-breakfast-for-dinner concoction, I would get Panera to-go; Key phrase from that sentence would be "to go". I had become accustomed to going to book stores alone and reading, or movies alone, and enjoying film, but those places were much more safe. It's easier to hide, or be discreet, and the actions add to the ease. One doesn't have to read or watch film. It's a hobby, and some people like solo hobbies. Less people stare, or feel the pang of sadness for your situation. But eating, it's much more personal. It's something we must do to continue living, and in so many places and cultures, it's innately social, or familial. Even if you are quite at ease with a meal out alone, others around you revel in the uncomfortableness. But I realized that I may go crazy if I eat all of my meals inside the stark white walls of the apartment I shared with my messy brother, and since I find a lot of pleasure in the ambience and atmosphere of a place, I would be living a less full existence if I didn't find a way to push past the lingering fears of misunderstanding or my distaste of the "oh, poor her" look and dine confidently "all by my own self", as my nephew would say.

And so I did just that, letting go, eventually, of the need to say, "It's okay! I am fine with this! I find enjoyment from alone moments!" as I have learned that in life if I choose to engage with people, it's inevitable that I will be misunderstood.

I have grown out of the necessity for such solo outings in my Tulsa season because there's, most often, someone to eat with when it's time to eat. I also eat a lot of my meals at work, as there's an abundance of food around and much of it's free. This is what I had planned to do this evening. I went into work with every intention of eating a bowl of the senate bean soup that I have fallen for, post bean breakthrough. I walked in the door on a most beautiful day and my co-workers and boss ushered me out. It was going to be a slow night, I wouldn't make any money, which left no point in me being there, they told me.

I gladly walked back out into the beautiful day, curled up in the recliner on our front porch, attempted to seek out an eating buddy, and eventually fell asleep while waiting for replies. I began to feel hunger pangs around six, the evening was approaching seven, and I was no longer able to wait. I had been craving a cheese burger, but tried to talk myself into a veggie Subway sandwich. And then I grew uncomfortable with the fact that I was trying to talk myself into something I didn't want, which felt a little like settling for the left-overs, and even more uncomfortable with the fact that one thing that was deterring me from getting my burger and beer was the fact that I would be eating it alone. "Wait a second here Meredith! You have already resolved this! You just go somewhere, be friendly and cordial, and create the meal experience you want, instead of going to sleep with vegetable onion breath still hungry and unsatisfied!"

I passed Liz on my way out of the house, and she asked me what I was doing. "I am going to get a burger and a beer at McNellie's," I replied, also inviting her to join. She had somewhere else to be. While approaching my destination, I received a reply to my previous dinner invitation...She had been in a meeting, and was going to have a late dinner with her fiance, which meant a few hours, and I was welcome to join...I declined.

I went to the upstairs bar, which was the less crowded of the two, and I ordered what I had been wanting. The beer was on tap (something Subway didn't offer), the burger met my craving (and then some) and the sweet potato fries were cooked to (crispy) perfection. I ran into some people that I knew while I was there, and though it was nice to see friendly faces, it wasn't necessary. That hadn't been the point of my endeavor, and when a waitress made the comment, "oh good, now you have friends," when I went to join them for a bit, I had to quiet my verbal inclination...And refrain from defending myself or my solo moment.

I left there with a renewed sense of satisfaction from solo adventures, post conversation with a kind stranger, and laughter from the lady that served me my beer. I decided to keep up my solo task, and try a dessert place I had failed to actually enter. I let the ladies at the counter know of my evening's theme, which brought smiles to their faces, and I picked the corner table that, it felt like, had been reserved for me. I sat and observed the lively tables before me, enjoying the laughter of others, and my lemon tart. I sipped my coffee slowly, and reminded myself to savor the moment, and the tarts shortbread crust.

I had woken this morning with a six-ish mile run before me. I wasn't going to complete it so early because I wanted to, but because I didn't think I would have the time later in the afternoon, as I would be working. And then, a run that happened out of necessity set the pace for a most wonderful day. I had marveled at this little blessing earlier, when it was light outside...That sometimes the things we are forced into bring the most unexpected joy. And as I drove home in the darkness, full and happy, I related my morning's blessing to my evening's, as well. I hadn't intended to eat alone, as I sought company before leaving my house. The decines had been out of my control, and since I wanted that burger and that beer and didn't feel like compromising, my solo meal happened out of necessity. It led to solo dessert and solo confidence, and the most unexpected joy.

And this is all good and timely because, friends and readers, I am preparing to embark upon a much more substantial solo journey very soon from now. March is coming to an end, which leaves but two months before I move to a place where I am almost completely unknown. I needed my evening's adventure to remind me of what I am capable of, and prepare me for what will likely be a much more common occurrence.

I decided in the darkness of my evening drive home to make this solo action happen more frequently while I am here, when it's not necessary, so that it doesn't feel so foreign when it is.