a table for one
This piece was originally published for Kayli Mylius’s The Intentional Muse. It’s the most stunning monthly print newsletter - full of inspiration and stories and glimmers that encapsulate the beauty of being a woman.
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Every time I ask for a table for one, a hostess will make a “I wish I did that more” comment.
Recently, a friend introduced me to the word: reclamation. It’s the middle of summer, and I have just gone through a “break-up”. We’ll use that term for all intensive purposes. It was one of those situations where you weren’t officially dating, but you weren’t officially not. So, lines were crossed and blurred, communication was fumbled, thus resulting in a July full of tears. He unfortunately, also lives in my neighborhood which makes the possibility of run-ins very frequent and very often.
Even though everything feels haunted, I have to remind myself that the sun is shining. We can run around in the tiniest dresses, drink spritzes, and gossip with our girls until midnight. We can reclaim something and keep moving, even if we’re not sure where exactly we’re headed.
My Venusian Taurus makes me a romantic, not only in love, but in life as well.
I need to romanticize every little thing.
Heartbroken? Write 60 poems and letters about the guy. Buy a new mascara to cry in. Stroll slowly through the aisles of a grocery store with an oversized straw tote, and ignore the 5 PM rush of carts around you. Put on your favourite white dress, blast Gracie Abrams, tell the barista, or anyone who will listen - about your latest break up.
How do we embrace new beginnings while simultaneously living through an ending?
Maybe, a fresh start isn’t an immediate moment of clarity, or of healing. But instead, it’s in the reclamation of your own life and how you choose to witness the beauty that still exists around you.
Post break-up, I take myself out to one of my favourite Italian restaurants for lunch. It’s 2 PM on a Wednesday, and their back garden is completely empty.
What do you see? What do you taste? What do you smell? What do you feel? What do you hear?
The oak tree in the middle of the empty patio. There’s tealights hanging from the branches. They aren’t lit yet, but it must be magical when nighttime comes.
There’s bubbles in my Franciacorta. I’m pretending to be in Rome with my pizza al tonno. The tomatoes are so fresh, I could cry.
There’s a glow to my skin. It’s a combination of Vitamin C body oil, vanilla body butter, and sunscreen.
I feel peace, and I feel quiet. I’m convinced that this life, and this moment, was made just for me.
And it’s enough that I start to believe in something again.