But now I've done something that is none of those things. I bought a second condo. My daughter and her friends will live there and cover the expenses and I have an air-bed there tucked into the corner of the strangely big-as-a-bedroom laundry room. An air-bed with white sheets and a white comforter and two feather pillows waiting for me in a room with plaster cracked like a roadmap so that I can lie there and study the wall and wonder where I am going.
I've made up a pretend life for myself in St. Paul. Where I practice yoga. The cooking class I've registered for. Where I buy yarn and the bar where I never miss a happy hour and the bookstore where I work part-time. There's a good smelling salon where I get the perfect haircut and my neighbors have me over for dinner every week. I like my imaginary life.
And I like my new real life, too.