On My Own Island

I heard myself admit to something that I thought I had forever trapped in my subconscious, and it scared me.

Fred and I were sitting in my driveway on Saturday evening, just enjoying the weather and waiting for the sun go down. There was not a lot of talking going on, and I'm not sure how we even got on this subject. But I heard myself say, "I'm at a place where I've isolated myself from my family and friends because I've lost SO much that I want to do what I can to avoid that level of loss again. And I don't want to let anyone else in my inner circle because I'm afraid that I'm going to lose them too. I hold my kids close, but that's it."

Wow! That scared the crap of me.

I occasionally feel alone. Let me be honest, a lot more than occasionally. I don't have a friend I can just call up and ask to come over for dinner. If I want to have a get-together, I really have to think about who I'm willing to invite over to my home. There's no friend list on my mind.

I have no friends in Arkansas. I have a bunch of associates.

When people ask me if I have family here, I usually say no. Sad. Sad.

I have a sister, nieces, nephew, uncles, cousins, great-nieces; they all live within about 20 miles of my home. But I make no attempt at visiting.

I know what the problem is: I've built an island just for myself and my children. I just don't know how to create a bridge.