All By Myself

For my 60th birthday, Liz and I rented a house on the Greek island of Sifnos and invited five of my friends and five of hers to spend the week with us. Best of all, Liz and I along with Abby and Asha stayed on for another week of pleasure. One night, the two philippino women who cooked and cleaned and who lived in a tiny room in the lowest level of the house, invited us to have a karaoke night together. While the four of us howled with laughter as we watched each other do our best Madonna or Diana Ross imitations, the two maids approached their turns at the microphone with the greatest seriousness. They chose sad ballads and sang them with real sweetness as scenes from the Philippines flashed on the TV screen in front of them. Ever since that evening, whenever I hear Celine Dion sing “All by Myself” I think of those two little women, virtual prisoners in that big house, serenading their families so far, far away.

So here I am today after everyone has gone back to the city all by myself in my cabin in Maine. And strange to say, I am feeling much better. I like moving around the house, straightening up, putting away the laundry or just sitting on the deck and breathing in the clean Maine air. I need this time alone to feel like this house belongs to me, all by myself.