After many years of packing for two, I am now packing for one. Logically, the job should be easier, faster, more efficient. In reality, my brain goes into a funk and I arrive at the family time-share in Atlantic City minus a tooth brush, a hat and a few other Jersey shore essentials. I promise myself that I will pick-up what I need tomorrow on the busy part of the boardwalk. For now I sit across from an empty chair at a table for two and look out over the gently rolling ocean. My spirit lulled by the drifting water and the almost mystical sound of the Indi-rock music shifts from funk to tranquility. It’s been a year now since the demise of my spouse. Finallly, I’m glad that I was unable to sell my time-share.
A few weeks after my husband’s death, I paid some company to advertize the sale of my time share as I was afraid that being alone at our “chill out” apartment right on the ocean would sink me into dispair. The bad thing is that the so-called “Ad and Sell” companytook my money and never called back; the good thing is that for one week of the year, the ocean waves and the Chair Climbers ( the singing group according to the waitress) provide good company on my vacation for one. My son will be glad to greet his mellowed out mother when she returns.