NANOWRIMO 2020

11.12 Missing Pieces

Willow was celebrating yet another Christmas alone. Not that she minded. She was used to it by now. She liked the solidarity with herself and not having to adjust her schedule to the whims and needs of another.

30 years by and still alone.

But not lonely.

That's what people didn't understand when she would mention staying home for the holidays— not going home to extended family or spending time with friends or cuddling up with a significant other, home as in her tidy one bedroom apartment, sparsely decorated for the holidays and minimalistically furnished every other day of the year.

A little space she could relax and unwind in, maybe with a bottle of red wine or craft beer, maybe with a bath bomb or a pizza movie night.

She had the freedom and the flexibility to do what she wanted, when she wanted, and she wasn't sure if she was willing to sacrifice her comfort for the sake of another.

Just thinking of the constant compromising and possible arguments that came with a relationship made her stomach drop, but Willow was someone who valued her own company above anybody else's. This had been problematic in her early 20s when everyone she knew was dating and happy and lovey dovey and they were all waiting for her to join the couples club to avoid awkward third wheel scenarios, but she realized early on that other people are garbage.

Garbage at communicating.

Garbage at compromising.

Garbage at committing.

Every relationship she had ventured into led to a clash of personalities and an expectation to become someone she was not. The idea was to challenge each other and grow together, but the problem was: Willow was confident. Willow knew her worth and refused to bottle herself up for the comfort of others.

She knew how to walk into a room and demand attention without saying a word. She barely topped five and a half feet, but her wildly fluffy hair gave her an extra three inches on the best of days, and at least five on the worst. Her gaze was unflinching and oblivious to the discomfort of those squirming under her review, but that in itself was an allure to many a man, and sometimes many a woman, who worked with her.

The problem with all of her relationships was that her partners always liked what they saw, but they disliked the depth of her character when they delved deeper. The wholeness of Willow's personality, how satisfied she was with herself left little room for negotiation with how others navigated their way through her life.

Her relationships always ended because Willow could see no real added value of them being in her life. As cold and strategic as that sounded, Willow was undeniably content with who she was and how she was living life. And if someone wanted to be part of that, then they had to be better than Willow Alone.

She had been told she was pretentious. Arrogant. Bitchy. But those were words ripped from wounded men licking the wounds of their hearts. She put no value in that. Sometimes she felt like all of the above, feeling like she was the anomaly, the odd one out in all of her relationships, demanding too much from her partners and refusing to compromise on her ideals.

But then she would be done feeling sorry for those men and realize that if they didn't match her standards, then there was no point in holding onto them. This was her one chance at life, and she wasn't going to settle for anything less than what she thought was the best.

She was looking for a positive-sum game of life and hadn't found it yet.

It wasn't like she was adverse to dating or unapproachable. But she had such high standards for who she would let into her personal life that most people left for lack of trying. The disappointment each time was heartbreaking, and it didn't get easier the more that it happened.

Willow found it better to hold herself responsible for her own happiness.

She didn't envy her friends their wedding rings and toddler footsteps in the middle of the night. She didn't pine for a great romance to warm her through cold nights or to whisper inside jokes in a crowded hall. She was happy they were happy.

And she was happy too. Not in the same way, not by the same methods, but she, too, was happy.

Content with her place in life, working at a small law firm in the city. Making the world a better place for her far cat Bernard.

Of course it smarted when she'd watch a movie and have no one to talk about it with. It didn't feel great when she was sipping her coffee and nibbling on toast in the mornings by herself with no one to share the sunrise with. The silent nights where the entire city breathed in and out in restful slumber and she had only the clock to count the seconds away.

All the things she loved and wanted to share with someone, she couldn't. In a way it was a waiting game; waiting for someone, not to complete her but to add to her life. Someone she could share all these little moments with and laugh with and cry with, to show all that she loved and all that she cared for. Willow felt nostalgic for that, even though she had never felt it.

Sometimes she wished for a partner, but then she'd berate herself for not appreciating the life she'd built for herself, for not loving herself enough to know she, as herself, is more than enough.

The movies she watched by herself, the mornings on her balcony, the nights with the stars. She got to enjoy all of that by herself, and enjoy it she did and will continue to do.

Alone. But not lonely. Wanting to share her life with someone, but content living as is until that day happened.

A lot of people didn't understand that, but she didn't need all of them to understand. She just needed that one other person. That one other person to share her happiness and secrets and love with.

But until that happened, Willow was content to piece together this gingerbread house by herself with a glass of champagne and a Hallmark movie playing in the background.