Humans need it in order to survive. In order to thrive, we need lots of it. But what happens when we're alone? Whether by choice or by chance, we who live alone are deprived of a wonderful part of life when we are not touched. I had such a busy day yesterday and right smack dab in the middle of it I decided to go get a massage. OMGosh! It was divine. I think it should be a national mandate that everyone receives a massage once a week. The world would be a happier place.

We pull into the cemetery. Three cars. We aren't together, but we are, you know? The red Honda pulls to the left and heads to the back west side. I turn right to the front east. The silver SUV drives past me and heads a couple rows to the north, Christmas carols escaping thinly in the dusky air. "I'll Be Home for Christmas". Sigh. Not this year. Not any year.

'Tis the season. Just about everyone has the warm fuzzies at this time of year. Carols being played everywhere you go bring back memories of past holidays. Cards, cookies, gifts…the very air sparkles with hope and love. Families travel to share the most precious gift…time…with their loved ones.

Merry Christmas! Happy Hanukkah! Happy Kwanzaa! Happy Holidays! It doesn't matter which holiday you are celebrating this time of year, there's lots of love and light flowing around. I would love to see these same feelings of brotherly love, of mutual respect, of loving kindness spread rampant every day of the year, wouldn't you?

Mr. Virgo always worked the holidays. All of them. You never knew when, or where, your Thanksgiving Dinner or Christmas was going to be year to year. We didn't get to see things like fireworks together or kiss at the stroke of midnight. Such is the nature of the food service industry. And, since I am the "World's Most Flexible Person", this did not bother me. As long as I knew Mr. Virgo was going to be there, I'd celebrate…period. Didn't matter, because every day was a holiday with that man.

Sitting in Starbucks yesterday morning, I had the opportunity to people-watch for awhile. I saw something disturbing. Horrifying, really. An entire family of eight came in, placed their orders, pushed a couple of tables together so they could sit together and share this early December Saturday morning bonding over coffee. Then they sat down…and immediately got out their smart phones. They disconnected…checked out…each retreating into their own worlds. It was a devastating reminder of the deterioration of interpersonal connection we experience daily anymore. I was just as guilty…sitting there writing this post as my youngest grandchild improved her vocabulary with a game on her iPod. I have begun to have electronic free visits with my grandkids. Insisting the distracting little buggers stay in our pockets. And we talk. To each other. With each other. We practice making eye contact. We connect.

I met Hubby #2 when I was working at a rehabilitation hospital in Denver in 1977. I was the x-ray tech and he was a physical therapist. We didn't have our first date till a year later and married a year after that. He was a brave young man to take on a woman with a young child while he was entering medical school. Those were truly the best years of our youth. We were so poor but we lived on love and generic macaroni and cheese. We were idyllic and full of hope for the future. We rode our bikes everywhere and took advantage of every free activity we could find. We were young. We were happy. Then, I don't know…life happened. He finished medical school and residency, joined a practice in another town, we put our noses to the grindstone and didn't look up in time to see the truck that hit us. Not literally, of course. But our marriage fell apart in pieces on the floor. It took us about five years to break and many more to heal.

Actually, the light was chasing me as I flew across the country yesterday morning. I was up at 4:00 local, sitting aboard a comfortable 737 by 6:00. Way too early to be decent company. I chatted briefly with my seat mate. Her husband died six days after Mr. Virgo. We compared notes for a bit. Lovely woman, very brave. Once we prepared to taxi, I apologized and told her it was nothing personal but I needed to put in my earplugs to block out the noise from the engines. I snuggled down in my furry wrap and eased into blissful slumber. I always worry that I will snore and snort and look decidedly unladylike on my very cosmopolitan journey. That would ruin the whole jet-setter persona I adopt as I travel.

I love to fly! Love, love, love it! It sure isn't what it used to be though. As with everything else it seems, prices go up and service comes down. Gone are the days of spacious seating and tasty meals. With the price of gas down, you might hope for lower ticket prices but that's not going to happen. I drove six hours each way to save $300 on my flight. And…I bought meals, gas, and lodging that far exceeded my savings. However, I do get to spend the night at both ends of my trip with my good friends, Cindy and Randy. Cindy lived in the flat below me when I lived in England. It is such a treat to spend time with them.

I am preparing to fly to Colorado for a couple of weeks. Father-in-law #2 turns 90 this weekend and we are having a family reunion/birthday party for him. I took him out for breakfast the week before I left for West Virginia and he was telling me of his upcoming birthday. He wanted to make sure I was coming. Even though I hadn't planned to go back quite this soon, how can you turn down an invitation like that? So, I'm preparing to fly in the opposite direction than usual. It feels a bit strange.

I love "A-Ha!" Moments. That brilliant stroke of insight that comes when you set aside your ego investment and focus the microscope on your teeny tiny little mammalian brain. The rush of clarity knocks your socks off. Whenever I find myself sorely disappointed in something or someone, I have to sit back and ask myself, "What was my expectation here?" "Was it realistic?" "What was my motive?" "What part did I play in the disappointing outcome?" "What could I have done differently?" I have to be honest in this conversation. We are so quick to place the blame for our disappointments at the feet of someone else…to become the victim.