“I practice being alone,” my sister told me last night.
“What do you mean?”
“I put myself out there. I sit on a bench in a park alone. I enter a coffee shop alone.”
“I’m not quite comfortable yet, but it has gotten easier.”
“I’m scared of walking in a place alone and feeling alone in the crowd.”
“That’s why you have to practice. Even if you feel awful at first, keep doing it. You’ll start to get used to it.”
Being the youngest, single and childless, she assumes that she will be the last one to go and readies herself for being left alone one day.
As I take a small step forward and a few big steps back on this widowhood path, my younger sister gives me advice on how to live alone.
I still have a lot to learn.