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  • It doesn't happen overnight. It took eighteen years for the love in my marriage to finally dissolve and become like a sticky residue at the bottom of a coffee cup, clinging to my waking hours, the painful effronts of mutual misunderstanding never far from thought. The last argument - the proverbial straw that broke the camel's back - wasn't the worst argument, just the last.

    I was now a divorced forty year old woman. I read somewhere that I had a better chance of being struck by lightening than to find true love again. At the time, lightening seemed preferable. There is no loneliness like the loneliness of being in a relationship and yet not being loved. That was over. Being lonely because I was alone made sense.

    I became a grass widow. I had entered a new territory, a wide open expanse. The ground where I now lived was flat and barren as far as the eye could see. Nothing on the horizon but sky. I was out to pasture.

    What freedom! No walls. No doors slamming shut. No word barriers.

    I was free range.



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