It is his birthday, but he is away. So I celebrate his birth on my own.
It is always a defiant act to dine alone. The wait staff always seems surprised: amused. I stand tall as I walk to my table alone. There are never any tables for a single person, all tables have at least two chairs. The chair opposite where I sit is not empty. I fill that chair with the idea of my lover. I am not alone. I am celebrating his birthday with my love for him.
This is a ceremonious act. It has meaning outside function. I could have found someone to dine with, but that would defeat the purpose. It is a ritual for my lover and I to dine together on our birthdays. Just the two of us. I will not give up the ritual because he is not present. I will not give up the ritual as long as I love him.
I love him. So I sit. I dine. I enjoy my meal. My thoughts are of him, with him.
Happy Birthday My Love.
We will share our meals together, our moments together, our lives together, even if you can't fill the second seat at a table in a fine restaurant.
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2 comments:
Love is never celebrated alone.
hey hun - I do the single meals all the time -I love how you can place another soul at the table with you - I usually just do it 'cuz even though I know millions of people, none of my friends are ever available!
I love reading your journal! gkb in yvr
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