Alone, Snowed In, and Overflowing With Love

The day before Valentine’s Day, pondering this mysterious and powerful thing we call love

The view from my window, 2/13/2025, photo by the author

I woke up this morning alone, as usual.

Well, to be absolutely accurate, I didn’t so much wake up as I abandoned my attempt to sleep. I hadn’t slept particularly well all night. It was more like a series of short, fitful naps rather than a satisfactory night’s rest.

I may be wrong, but I don’t think I sustained unconsciousness long enough in any one stretch to get to an REM state. This was atypical and somewhat irksome, in that my nightly CBD gummy almost always dispatches me into a deep, luxurious, dream-filled slumber. So much so that, more often than not, upon awakening, I find it difficult to peel myself out of my bed.

Returning to the “alone, as usual” part of my situation, I’ve lived and slept alone for the better part of 14 years, ever since my last divorce — my third, if anyone’s counting. After 22 years of marriage, I finally had to let my ambivalent sexual orientation and same-sex philandering out of the bag. It should come as no surprise that this news didn’t sit well with wife number three.

I wanted to work things out. But, feeling that trust between us had been shattered beyond repair, she chose victimhood…