I have only lived alone two times in my life before now. I was only 19 years old the first time, my first marriage over, and it only lasted a couple of months. The second time, when I was in my mid-20s and widowed for the first time, I lived alone for several months in a one-bedroom apartment over a two-car garage in Niles, California. I live alone now, but it is under different circumstances. When I was young, I had a lot of friends come to visit me, or I was often out, and I didn’t spend much time alone. Now, I spend nearly every evening alone. My only companion is my 3-year-old blue heeler, Emmy.

When you spend a lot of time alone, you really get inside your own head. It reminds me of watching the series “Alone”. In that particular series, men and women with various outdoor skills are dropped in the middle of nowhere and they have to fend for themselves for 40 days. The contestant who stays in the wilderness the longest wins the cash prize. I have watched some of the contestants build beautiful structures for themselves, hunt and kill animals, catch fish and cook them. I would often think to myself, that contestant is going to make it all the way. But eventually the contestant broke down. They all did, eventually. They couldn’t stand the loneliness. They couldn’t stand their own voice inside their head, constantly talking, constantly reminding them of the loved ones that were waiting for them at home. And they would tap out. A few times there would be a contestant that could have possibly made it the whole 40 days, but they got sick, or they fell and broke their ankle, or they got bit by some kind of a nasty bug. But what I really found to be fascinating about the series was the way that loneliness breaks the spirit of even the strongest men and women. God did not create us to be alone. When he created Adam, God said that Adam needed a helper, a companion. So he created Eve. And so it’s always been. People need people.

Since I am still working full time, I have a lot of contact with people during the day. And that is probably what sustains me. And I have always been a person that was comfortable in my own company. And that helps me. But it doesn’t stop my own voice inside my own head, and some of the crazy things that I think about! Things that happened so long ago in the past, people I knew or mistakes that I made, old friends or lost loves.

And so, to let off some of the pent up steam in my mind, so to speak, I will reminisce about my first love. I’ll try to make my story brief.

I met him during a revival at my church. Many local churches of the same denomination all came to the same revival. So it was an opportunity to meet a lot of different young people. I would say that we were instantly attracted to one another. He was very handsome, blonde, blue-eyed, and an incredibly good singer. We dated for several months, I was absolutely head over heels in love with him. I think that he truly did love me, but not in the same way. And so, being an attractive and young man, he strayed. And it broke my heart. We probably broke up and got back together again at least twice. The last time we broke up for good, and he actually left for a different state. He wanted to start a career singing. I went on to get married, divorced a few months later, and started dating a man that I cared for quite a lot. At some point, my first love reached out to me when he came back to our town for a visit with his family. I couldn’t wait to see him. We met in his friend’s apartment, where he said that he was staying. The place was a pigsty, it even smelled terrible. But I didn’t care. I just wanted to catch up with him. He talked about how unhappy he was, how difficult starting a career in music turned out to be. He said he missed our relationship, and wondered if it was really as good as he remembered. I told him that we could have that again, that close relationship. And he asked me if I wanted to kiss him, to see if there was any spark left. And I said I did. And I drew close to him, his face so familiar to me, and I put my arms around him and put my lips on his. I kissed him with all the passion that I had, all the passion that I had ever felt for him I drew it up from my heart and poured it out into that kiss. When we drew back, I was dizzy. I was ready to leave everything to be with him. And he looked at me with sadness, and he said,”See? Nothing.” He had felt nothing. There was a depth to his sadness that I could never hope to reach. I was absolutely bewildered and confused, and I had to go. So I left. We had nothing more to say. But later I wished I hadn’t left him. I wished I’d tried to help him somehow.

It was not long after this meeting I heard that my beautiful and talented and sad first love drove his car into a tree and died. I couldn’t bring myself to go to his funeral. Somehow I was afraid his family would blame me. I don’t know why. I never knew if it was an accident  or if he had killed himself like the rumors said. Such a terrible tragedy.

I think of that kiss even now. I think of all those months that we spent together, and how happy we were, at least at first. I remember the innocence of my love, my steadfast belief that we would be together forever.

And that is a memory that has been on my mind lately. The winter always brings memories of my first love and our first kiss outside the back of the church in the freezing cold, the smell of his leather jacket and the scratch of his stubble on my cheek and a million stars overhead.