The Power of Love. Or Some Shit Like That.
I've spent years celebrating my independence. I love my motorcycles, my freedom, and the ability to disappear into my own head for a while. But when Dawna came home after being away for a couple of weeks, a friend at work asked why I was suddenly in such a good mood. Apparently, I'd been wearing my loneliness on my sleeve without even realizing it. Somewhere along the way, this woman became my new normal. And now I'm discovering there's a big fucking difference between being able to live alone and wanting to.
The Sound of Her Being Here
Eight months ago, I loved living alone. I loved making my own decisions, setting the thermostat wherever the fuck I wanted, and answering to nobody. Then Dawna moved in, and somewhere along the way, my house became our home. Now she's away visiting her mom, and for the first time in months, I'm sitting here alone, discovering that the silence I used to treasure is suddenly too fucking loud. Turns out, love isn't always about grand gestures. Sometimes it's just the sound of someone you love being there.