Loneliness Doesn’t Add Colour to Life

April 12

I still recall the way Thomas slipped a comment into my ear as I left the shop on Main Street. Emily, come to the community centre tonight. Ive got something to discuss with you, he said, already turning down the alley. I gave him a quick nod, though he didnt see. He was already out of sight.

Thomas always looks so solemn, perhaps because hes six years older than me. I often wonder if his seriousness hides something deeper. The village paths wind homeward, and I find myself pondering his odd behaviour.

Ill be at the centre later; I cant shake the curiosity about what he wants to talk about. Clara is always hovering around him, making sure no other girls even get close. Everyone knows that Claras affection for Thomas is almost possessiveshe clings to him like a scarf in a winter gale. Ive watched Thomas deftly evade Claras attempts to pull him onto the dance floor, and I heard Claras teasing laugh as she called after him, Leave him be!

Clara would sing, You wont get away, youll fall in love and marry, and youll still be mine. If a boy said that to me, Id turn away in shame, I thought.

Tonight, my heart fluttered as I prepared for the meeting. Im nineteen, with my whole life ahead. Ive always dreamed of marrying a kind, decent man and having two children. Thomas is a good sort, albeit older, but his stare sends a chill down my spine. As I examined myself in the mirrormy new dress fitting just rightI reminded myself that he has escorted me home three times, always politely, never reaching for my hand the way other lads rush to embrace.

The community centre was buzzing when I walked in. Thomass eyes met mine instantly; he was waiting, and he rushed over. I scanned for Clara, but she was nowhere in sightperhaps shed arrive later.

Hey, Emily, Thomas said, pulling me toward the centre of the floor. We swayed to a slow tune, My Bright Star. His seriousness softened occasionally with a brief smile. The closeness of his hand on my waist sent a thrill through me. As we danced, Clara finally appeared, glaring at us with a sharp look. Thomas kept close to me, repeatedly inviting me to dance.

When the music faded, Thomas whispered, Emily, lets take a walk.

Yes, I answered, and we slipped out while Clara continued to dance.

Outside the village, the night was quiet except for the chirping crickets and the cool breath of the river. Mist drifted in patches, and the scent of wildflowers swirled around us.

Emily, I wont beat around the bush any longer, Thomas said suddenly. Will you marry me?

I was stunned, not expecting a proposal at allI thought perhaps hed simply confess his love.

Why are you so quiet? he asked, a hint of nervousness in his voice.

Oh, Thomas, I stammered, laughing softly, I didnt see this coming but I accept. He pulled me into his arms and kissed me.

Our wedding was a joyous affair, a celebration of love. We moved into Thomass family home, sharing the house with his parents. Their kindness eased my worries about the dreaded motherinlaw stereotype; we got along wonderfully.

I have always listened to Thomas, trusting his experience because he is older, and I consider him the head of our household. He never mistreated me, always supporting me in difficult times. Soon after, a son was born, and I was tossed into the whirl of motherhood. My motherinlaw helped with the baby, even staying up at night to soothe him. Three years later, a daughter arrived, and the grandparents adored their grandchildren. My own mother and my motherinlaw continued to lend a hand whenever we needed it.

One evening Thomas declared, Emily, well build a house of our own. He believed every man should have his own home, and I encouraged him. He set to work, and while the children were five and still toddlers, I rejoiced at the thought of a place we could call entirely ours.

The dream of an independent home grew stronger. I imagined a house where I could arrange everything to my tastea separate bedroom for the kids, a cosy master suite for us. Thomas honoured my wishes, and after months of labour the house was complete. We moved in, and the children ran about, laughing. We even brought a stray kitten, Misty, who quickly became part of the family.

One night Thomas, with a twinkle in his eye, said, Emily, perhaps we should think about a third child. I laughed, Why not? We have room now, look at this splendid house!

But fate had other plans. Thomas suffered a sudden heart attack after breakfast. I helped him onto the sofa and rushed for an ambulance, but by the time they arrived he was already gone.

The grief that followed was overwhelming. I wept, Why must good men be taken from us? I still wanted another child, a life to look forward to. I was left a widow with two young children.

The first months were a blur of tears and memories of Thomas. I reminded myself, My children need me; I must endure. I took on two jobs to provide for them, though my parents and my motherinlaw continued to support us. Slowly I reclaimed my strength. Men began to propose, even offering marriage, but I could not contemplate another relationship while my children were still so young. Thoughts swirled: What if they dont accept a new man? What if he cannot be a father to them? What if he hurts them? I decided to wait.

Years passed. My son graduated from university, my daughter finished college, and both started families of their own. Im now fortyeight, with two grandchildren who visit on weekends. My son once said, Mum, youre still young and lovely. Dont stay alone; find a decent man and marry again. We understand that loneliness doesnt brighten life.

I replied, Ive thought about it, but I cant find anyone like Thomas. Many men drink, argue, or shirk work. My house and my responsibilities keep me busy. At least my son is handy with his hands.

A neighbour introduced me to her widowed friend Edward, a respectable man from the nearby village. He arrived one afternoon in his car, bringing a bottle of wine his son had fetched from the city. I set the table, baked pies, and poured us a glass. Edward, despite insisting he didnt drink, emptied the whole bottle himself, chuckling, What a lovely wine you have, Emily.

After a few glasses, Edward grew bold. Emily, lets live together at my place. My house isnt any smaller, and I wont give it up. We could sell this one, why keep it?

I protested, Edward, my children will remain in this home. It was built by their father.

He retorted, What will you bring to me then? Emptyhanded?

I rose, firm, Edward, this wont work. Were too different; well never get along.

He replied, Youve known me only two hours, yet you already give up?

I answered simply, Ive made my choice. I saw him out, closed the door, and locked it.

Now I live alone in the house I built with Thomas. The garden, the chores, the quiet eveningsthese are my companions. I laugh at the thought, Better not to hope for a new husband; none will ever be like Thomas. Loneliness may be dull, but the life goes on.