...and then...

I've been trying on the idea of lonely for some months now. The word first tumbled from some consciousness and out of my mouth on a car ride with my friend.  “I’ve been lonely for as long as I can remember,” we were both stunned to hear me say.   We had just pulled up to her apartment when this unannounced truth slid into open air.  We’ve been friends and colleagues for more than twenty years: clocking countless hours of logistics, laughter, life and lament.  For as long as I can remember. I've never described myself as lonely, save a post-breakup season. Isolated, either. True, most of my world is solitary: sitting at a laptop, traveling to an engagement, working from my empty nest home office, even speaking in front of an audience or class. By default, I’m alone a lot, but lonely is different. Isolation is different. My language, instead, is that I’m “a high-functioning introvert,” was "an arts and crafts kid” and have always “spent a lot of time in my head.” I